Archive of Our Own

Kaveh grew up in a small family. It was just him and his parents, no siblings, aunties or uncles. His mother is a half-Fontainian architect, her name renowned for her unorthodox designs in Sumeru. His father is an astronomer, as well as a Rtawahist professor at the Akademiya.

Kaveh would spend his free time gazing through a telescope or sketching out his mother’s blueprints onto scrap pieces of paper. He would love to use one of her thick sheets of bond paper but after she accidentally brought one of his beginner sketches for her client instead of the one she had spent several nights pouring over, he’d been downgraded to thin paper from cheap notebooks. There were times where his parents would get sidetracked by work on important holidays, leaving Kaveh to his own devices, though they would always come back before dinner.

On birthdays, his father would take him shopping to buy new paper or an expensive pencil set for his mother, and his mother would take him to get small space-related trinkets for his father. They would eat candied ajilenakh nuts for the Sabzeruz festival and watch swirls of dendro float through the starry sky, and on Christmas, they would eat a massive homemade meal and sing carols together. For New Years, they would take a week off to take Kaveh out of Sumeru to travel. By age 6, his favourite place was the Opera Epiclese in Fontaine, his grandparents having taken them out for a stage play on a cold afternoon.

Kaveh grew up healthy and happy with parents who loved him, who strived to give him everything they possibly could. The Interdarshan Championship rolled around a few months before Kaveh’s 8th birthday and he begged his father to go. He was apprehensive at first but seeing the sparkle in his son’s eyes, he gave in and started writing a letter of correspondence to the Akademiya.

Kaveh and his mother saw him off at the Akademiya, the blond covering his eyes as his parents share a sweet kiss. He watches his father join a small group of Rtawahist scholars, the blue of their darshan badges reflecting the early morning sunlight. Kaveh’s chest aches but brushes it off, he’ll miss his father but they will see each other soon.

It is no one's fault but Kaveh’s that his father was buried in the sands of Hadramaveth, never to be seen again.

Kaveh can still vividly remember the look of utter horror on his mother’s face when the messenger appeared at their doorstep, the way her expression twisted into shock and sorrow, the way she crumpled onto the floor, sobbing and wailing for her husband. Kaveh could do nothing but wrap his arms around her, holding her as tightly as he possibly could, and cry.

She got worse as time passed. She would shut herself in her bedroom for days, her sobs echoing through the house, or she would sit on the living room divan, staring blankly across the room. She stopped taking commissions and the only times Kaveh heard her voice was when she was crying or when the funeral planners and widows dropped by with their deepest condolences. Kaveh tried so hard to talk to her, asking for her opinions on dinner or if she needed anything, but she would never acknowledge him in any way.

So he stopped. He stopped talking, stopped trying to reach out, stopped expecting responses he would never receive. It was hard at first but he just had to keep reminding himself to let go of his hope. She’s changed, it’s like she’s not even present in her body. This is not the adoring mother he remembers. She starts to lash out in his silence, if only to unknowingly prove him right.

“You have no right to be upset, you are the one that killed him.” She mutters over dinner one night, stabbing her fork through a potato. Kaveh startles at her voice, raspy from disuse, and looks up to see her glaring daggers at him. She speaks again, loudly. “You killed my husband.”

“Maman…”

“Don’t you dare call me that.”

“Maman, please-!”

“No!" She shouts, shooting up in her chair to grab him by the collar, pulling him halfway over the table. She raises her hand in the air, poised to strike, and Kaveh flinches, shrinking into himself. She freezes, lowering her hand slowly and releasing him. Kaveh glances at her out of the corner of his eye, she’s staring at him in horror, tears building in her eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

Kaveh runs. He darts into his room, locking the door behind him, and climbs onto his bed, hiding under the duvet. He hears his doorknob rattle, a sorrowful apology behind the wood, but he doesn’t move. Tears drip onto his sheets as his entire body trembles like a leaf. She leaves after a few more minutes of knocking and pleading and Kaveh falls asleep, tears drying on his cheeks.

It continues like this, more or less. Kaveh stays in his room more often than not, and she gets angry with him, lashing out only to recede back into her shell when he flinches away. She bangs on his door, screeching through the wood at him. He covers his ears, rocking himself back and forth. He knows it’s bad but he refuses to talk to others about it. He refuses to talk to others about anything, actually, and at age 10, people on the streets start to see him as a recluse, the troubled child of Sumeru’s greatest architect and most-loved astrology professor. There have even been letters left on the doorstep labelled to him, telling him to seek out help for his concerning lack of socialisation, but he throws them into the trash.

Kaveh continues to meticulously sketch blueprints in the safety of his own room, which he shares across the Akasha. By the time he reaches age 11, he’s known less for being Faranak’s hermit son and more for designing rough blueprints for renovations in Port Ormos and the tavern. There’s a letter waiting for him at the door with the official Akademiya seal. Opening it, he’s met by the cursive of the Kshahrewar sage, offering him a place at the Akademiya. He spends a few nights drafting a reply, which he sends with a hesitant pinch of hope. He accepted within days, told to come in for the orientation day next month.

His mother still argues with him almost every night, their dinner sitting cold on the adhigama wood of the dining table. He attends the orientation for new students, picks up his robes and his schedule, and makes a few new friends; a Valuka Shuna named Tighnari and his white-haired boyfriend Cyno. Neither of them mind his restless personality or the way he flinches when they touch him, even accidentally. When they go out as a trio, they stay close enough to keep him out of the crowds, but far enough away that they don’t touch.

Seasons come and go, Kaveh moves into the dorms. His mother does nothing but watch as he and his friends haul his belongings out into the street, eventually locking herself in her bedroom.

Years pass.

-

Kaveh has been at the Akademiya for approximately two years now. He’s well on his way to a stable career in architecture, despite his struggle with presentations and the way he stammers when talking to his classmates. He continues to get high marks with his work, priding himself in the quality and structure of his dioramas and models. However, he prays they don’t notice the dark eyebags or the yawns that he hides behind his hand.

Although he finds it difficult to talk to others and get through his barrier of social anxiety, he still tries his best to make connections through kindness. He offers his notes to classmates that have been absent and explains their current assignments to exhausted students, trying to stay engaging while also not confusing their sleep-addled brains.

Kaveh’s architecture professor has given them a week to complete the set reading before they start on their next models and Kaveh is frustrated. He can’t read in his dorm room because he always seems to find something to distract himself with, whether it be an old model he wants to salvage for fun or a different book on a completely unrelated topic that he stays up reading until the early hours of the morning. So he sets off to the House of Daena, anxiety swirling in his stomach.

He passes by tables full to the brim with sleep-deprived students to the back of the library where he knows there’s a secluded table hidden behind a bookshelf. No need to stumble through illegible sentences, his face turning a bright, blotchy red colour, or to try and explain himself to curious students with no filter. No social interaction necessary, it’s an easy choice.

Today however, the Archons seem to be laughing at him. There is a boy at his table, dutifully writing in a black notebook. A pair of clunky headphones lay on the table beside him. Kaveh knows this boy: Alhaitham. He’s never met him, hasn’t had the chance to, but he’s two years Kaveh’s junior and, apparently, an absolute genius, despite enrolling later than most. He doesn't go to lectures, nor is he very ambitious, and yet he stays at the top of his year group. Squinting closer at him, Kaveh remembers the whispers about his hearing disability. Ah, the headphones must be hearing aids.

The books in his arms are starting to get heavier and heavier the longer he stands around so he takes a deep breath and walks up to the table, placing his things across from Alhaitham. The table shakes under the weight of his books, Kaveh cringes when Alhaitham peers up at him, clearly annoyed from being interrupted. He reaches out for his hearing aids with a sigh, looking up at Kaveh and raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

“S-Sorry to interrupt!” Kaveh tries to muster up his best smile, though it probably looks more like a grimace. His expression doesn’t change. Kaveh swallows nervously, tapping the table. “May I sit here?”

“Sure.” Alhaitham watches him as he slides into his seat and opens up a thick book on architecture in the rainforest. Kaveh tries his best to ignore the probing eyes burning into the side of his head, but glances up from beneath his eyelashes. Alhaitham blinks, bringing his book up to his face. Kaveh catches the pink flush that spreads across his junior’s face and hides a smile behind his hand.

They study in silence for a while. Kaveh’s pen flies across the page, he hasn’t been this productive in ages. Kaveh glances up and stops. Alhaitham adjusts his hearing aids, shifting them to sit comfortably over his ears with a frown. They look awfully clunky, Kaveh wouldn’t mind trying his hand in making something better for the boy. Alhaitham catches his eyes and Kaveh nods, looking back down at his notes and willing the flush across his face to disappear.

“Kaveh, right?” Kaveh startles, looking up like a deer in headlights. Alhaitham assesses him, leaning back in his chair.

“Uh, yes! That’s me.” Kaveh chuckles, scratching his nape awkwardly. Alhaitham hums.

“My name is Alhaitham.”

“I know.” Kaveh says without thinking. He drops his head, looking away from Alhaitham’s inquisitive expression. He can feel his cheeks heating up, he must look like a ripe tomato right now. He hears Alhaitham shuffle around in front of him and peeks up at him. He’s leaning forward, hands clasped on the tabletop.

“You’ve heard of me?”

Kaveh merely nods, shrinking into himself.

“How?”

“W-Well, you’re an academic genius, even as a first year student. I think everyone’s heard of you.”

Alhaitham’s cheeks turn pink, the blush spreading down his neck and, Kaveh can only assume, to the tips of his ears. He coughs into his fist, clearly embarrassed, and the movement jostles his headphones. He moves them back with a grumble and leans forward, putting all of his attention onto Kaveh.

“I’ve heard of you too.” Alhaitham smirks. Kaveh straightens up immediately. What has he heard? Who’s been talking about him? Why are they talking about him? Completely oblivious to his internal panic, or maybe just ignoring it, Alhaitham continues. “You’re Kshahrewar’s model student, the up-and-coming lead architect of Sumeru. Lots of people seem to look up to you.”

Kaveh huffs under his breath. Model student, my ass. None of them know about the sleepless nights and the countless alterations I make. In truth, Kaveh is a ruthless perfectionist, chugging cups of coffee as a substitute for a few hours of sleep. He puts an unfathomable amount of effort for everything he creates, only to be waved away by professors for a “lack of functionality”. Alhaitham doesn’t need to know that, though. “I don’t know about all that…”

“Hm?” Alhaitham tilts his head, only just now realising how red Kaveh’s face has gotten. “You must be deaf too if you haven’t heard the way people gush over you in the halls.” He says, absentmindedly adjusting his hearing aids.

People are talking about him? Perceiving him? Why? Kaveh stumbles onto his feet, loading all of his books into his arms and pushing his chair back into the table with his hip. “I don’t know what to tell you, I don’t really do people. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ or whatever.” His words are stilted as he juggles his books in his arms. He turns to leave but only makes it a few steps when Alhaitham calls out for him. Kaveh peers over his shoulder, seeing Alhaitham on his feet, palms flat against the tabletop.

“Are you coming back tomorrow?” Kaveh frowns. He can’t study in his dorm room, that’s why he came to the House of Daena in the first place. Everywhere else is too populated for his liking, Razaan Gardens, Puspa Café, even the tavern. He hikes up the books in his arms and is suddenly reminded of the amount of work he has left to do, he can’t afford to put it off any longer. Kaveh nods hesitantly and Alhaitham nods back, settling back in his seat and focusing back on his notebook. "See you tomorrow, then."

-

Kaveh and Alhaitham quickly become Kaveh & Alhaitham, it was uncommon to see one without the other.

When Kaveh went back to the House of Daena the next day, Alhaitham was already waiting for him at the table. Kaveh gave him an awkward nod and flicked through the pages of his sketchbook, ready to ignore the other boy for the next few hours, but Alhaitham spoke up, asking about his current project. They bickered and argued, Alhaitham chastising him for his horrible sleep schedule and heavy workload, and before they knew it the sun was setting behind the tall stained glass windows of the Akademiya. “My grandmother wants me to make friends.” Alhaitham confessed at the fountain in the lobby. Kaveh clasped their hands together, a shiver running down his spine at the skin-on-skin contact, and loudly proclaimed that they’re friends now. Rolling around in his bed an hour later, he’s overcome with embarrassment at the situation.

They talk more. Kaveh learns that Alhaitham has been deaf since he was born, but only recently started using his hearing aids in the past year. He lives with his grandmother, and barely remembers his parents' faces aside from the grins he sees in family photos. He lets it slip that he’s younger than Kaveh and enrolled late due to issues with his guardianship. “Ah, my little junior!” Kaveh says with a fond crinkle of the nose. Alhaitham looks away, a pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

Kaveh doesn’t offer up much information about himself, claiming it’s entirely unimportant whenever Alhaitham asks, but he does introduce Alhaitham to Tighnari and Cyno. They immediately take a liking to him, claiming his ‘awkward charm’ is endearing. As a group of four, they study together, they go out for dinner when their student allowances allow it, and they spend the holidays in Tighnari and Cyno’s small dorm room. As another new year passes, surrounded by the people he cherishes most, Kaveh feels whole.

In his first lecture of the New Year, his world starts to crumble. As he idly sketches designs for sustainable housing in the desert, his professor calls his name. Loudly. His head shoots up, noticing how everyone’s looking at him all of a sudden. His cheeks heat up as he looks at his professor, who stares back at him with a flat expression, almost bored looking. Nilou, his new friend who only took the class because she had time to spare between rehearsals, sits beside him, gently placing her hand over his in comfort.

“Well, Mr. Kaveh?” His arms are crossed. He glances down at his watch and Kaveh gulps. He’s wasting everyone’s time.

“I-I’m sorry, can you repeat the question please?” Kaveh stutters. A pair of brunettes a few rows ahead stifle their laughter, a black-haired boy to his side rolls his eyes and rests his head on his desk, a bespectacled boy at the front of the hall glares daggers at him. Kaveh shrinks back into his seat, biting his bottom lip.

“Aren’t you supposed to be good at this? Your mother is a well renowned Sumerian architect, is she not?” Kaveh flinches hard, startling Nilou’s hand off of his. The words pierce through him like knives, tearing him apart. “Maybe you take more after your father. Pity.” The professor turns back to the board, underlining a sentence as if he hasn’t just ripped Kaveh to shreds in front of half of his darshan.

Kaveh gets through the rest of the lecture on auto-pilot. The professor doesn’t call on him again, too busy rambling on about “the beauty of archway aesthetics”, and he can feel Nilou’s breath against the side of his face where she presumably whispers reassurance to him. They’re new friends, she hasn’t seen the way he just… disconnects from reality sometimes. Her words seem hurried, concerned, scared, but Kaveh can’t find the energy to comfort her.

When the bell chimes, he pulls his satchel over his shoulder and bounds down the stairs to the door. Nilou calls out after him but he doesn’t turn back, too fearful of catching the smug smirks and annoyed scowls directed his way. Winding through the halls until he gets to the Akademiya lobby, he pushes open the doors to the Haravatat dorms. He doesn’t know if Alhaitham will want to help, but Kaveh knows that he knows how it feels to be put down so fiercely, belittled and embarrassed for anything and everything. The only difference between them is that when Alhaitham lets it run off of him, Kaveh soaks it up like a sponge.

When he reaches the door to Alhaitham’s dorm room, he bangs on the door erratically, propping himself up against the doorframe. His breaths are short and sharp, his chest feels tight, his legs feel like jelly. He starts slamming his hand against the wood of the door, his palm starting to sting. When the door swings open in front of him and an annoyed Alhaitham stands in its opening, Kaveh deflates and stumbles forward.

Alhaitham opens his arms just as Kaveh falls into them, his fingers clawing at Alhaitham’s back as he sobs into his shoulder. There’s a twinge in his back, their height difference is a difficult thing sometimes. Alhaitham stands frozen, unsure of what to do, before he hesitantly tightens his hold around Kaveh. He pushes the door shut with a soft thud.

“It’s okay, it’ll be okay…” Alhaitham whispers into his hair. Kaveh grabs fistfuls of Alhaitham’s robes, pulling him closer and closer still. He wails into Alhaitham’s shoulder, voice cracking painfully. Alhaitham just rubs his back, holding him tightly so that he doesn’t crumple onto the floor.

Truthfully, Alhaitham can’t hear Kaveh. His hearing aids are on his nightstand on the other side of the room and he’s not willing to let Kaveh go in order to put them on. He’s not even sure he wants to hear Kaveh right now, his teary face alone making Alhaitham’s heart break. As Kaveh pushes in closer, curls into him and grabs onto his uniform, he can feel the other boy shaking in his hold, his tears leaving a wet patch on his shoulder.

Kaveh cries on and off for the next hour or so. Alhaitham keeps him close, whether it be his palm resting solidly between Kaveh’s shoulder blades or his fingers in Kaveh’s knotted braid. They’ve migrated over to Alhaitham’s bed where Kaveh sits pressed up against Alhaitham’s side, his knees pulled into his chest. Alhaitham now has his hearing aids on.

“Kaveh… What happened?” Alhaitham murmurs. Kaveh’s bottom lip trembles and he shrinks into Alhaitham’s side. Kaveh is visibly exhausted. His eyes, bloodshot and swollen, keep drifting shut and his full-body tremble feels more like a persistent shiver. His muscles ache from how tense he is. Kaveh blinks drowsily as Alhaitham pushes his fringe off of his forehead gently, frowning as his cool fingers brush against Kaveh’s boiling skin.

“Baba… Everyone knows what happened, I can’t escape him.” Kaveh whispers, his voice painfully raspy. He feels Alhaitham’s fingers stutter in their movements. After a short moment, he wraps an arm around Kaveh’s shoulder to pull him closer, humming in encouragement. “And Maman… To be compared to such a woman…”

“What do you mean, Kaveh?” Alhaitham keeps his voice quiet, soft.

“My professor, he- he compared me to my mother. Said I was supposed to be smart and then brought up my father.” Kaveh sniffs, tears welling up again in his eyes. “Am I a bad person, Haitham?”

“No, no, of course not, Kaveh.”

It was a big affair at the Akademiya when Kaveh’s father passed away. For Alhaitham, his grandmother had told him that Rtawahist’s most beloved professor had unexpectedly passed and they attended the funeral together, Alhaitham gripping his grandmother’s hand tightly. It wasn’t his first experience with the concept of death, but feeling the way his grandmother’s hand trembled in his as the casket was lowered into the ground, he thinks it might be the worst thing he’s ever had to watch. For Kaveh, his world was shattered, the shards of once-peaceful memories tossed aside. The loss, the lack of warmth, the distance, he matured all too quick for a child so young.

Getting to know Kaveh years later was somewhat enlightening, Kshahrewar’s model student who, behind his well-kept mask, is chained down by relentless guilt. He doesn’t often tell people about his home life for this reason, even Tighnari and Cyno only know bits and pieces. He’s not about to dump everything onto Alhaitham, it’s not his burden to bear and Kaveh does not want his pity. The way his professor mentioned his father so casually, it drove a stake into Kaveh’s chest, pushing his guilt deeper, cementing it further until the truth was inescapable. I killed my father. It’s all my fault.

Alhaitham pulls Kaveh closer and guides his head to rest on his shoulder. Kaveh buries his face into the fabric, cringing at the wet patch he had left earlier. With one arm around Kaveh, Alhaitham uses his other to adjust the blankets around them both. Kaveh can feel himself drifting off, shakily breathing in Alhaitham’s scent of fresh ink.

“I’m sorry, Haitham,” Kaveh mumbles, “for dumping everything on you.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Alhaitham whispers back. Kaveh can hear the quiet rustle of paper and the thud of his hearing aids being placed down. His fingers curl around locks of Kaveh’s hair, scratching pleasantly against his scalp. He’s out like a light.

-

If Kaveh and Alhaitham weren’t already joined at the hip, they definitely are now.

They don’t see each other for close to a week after that night. Kaveh keeps himself busy with writing gruelling papers and building finicky models for his professors that expect him to perform miracles. Alhaitham gets roped into a trip to Aaru Village with a few of his classmates to study the differing dialects in the desert.

When they meet up again, it’s kind of awkward. They meet in the House of Daena, Kaveh hunched over a thick photo book called ‘When Nature Strikes Back: The Natural Reclamation of Modern Architecture’. Alhaitham slides into the seat across from him, pushing a flask of hot tea across the table to Kaveh. The blond glances up in surprise, cheeks pinkening as he sips on his drink gratefully. Nilou joins them for a few minutes, offering Kaveh a small bag of candied ajilenkh nuts and sweetly confirming that he’s okay. Alhaitham and Kaveh leave with her and they split off at the lobby, Nilou nearly tackling a brunette who stands in front of the fountain, checking her nails and glancing into a small pocket mirror.

They go back to Kaveh’s room and he potters around, trying to avoid Alhaitham’s curious eyes. He kicks some clothes to the side, adjusts the way his plants face on his windowsill, organises an armful of papers on his desk, but Alhaitham keeps staring at him, unblinking. “Stop staring at me, junior. You’re being creepy.”

“Stop acting weird then, senior. It’s just me.” When Kaveh tries to protest, Alhaitham rolls his eyes and pulls him closer to sit on the bed. He pulls a small book from Kaveh’s nightstand and cracks it open. Kaveh huffs beside him and deflates against his side. The silence is pleasant, it gives Kaveh a chance to relax after almost burning himself out for the past week. After a short while, Kaveh tugs on Alhaitham’s arm, touch lingering hesitantly even after he lets go. His junior hums and glances over, eyes narrowing at Kaveh’s barely concealed smile.

“Do you want to see something cool?” Kaveh asks, pulling a blueprint out from underneath his bed for his newest passion project: a mechanical briefcase.

Things have changed since Kaveh’s breakdown. They stay over at each other’s dorm rooms more often. Kaveh’s half-drawn blueprints disappear underneath Alhaitham’s bed from when he falls asleep on the floor, sprawled across the carpet like a starfish. Alhaitham loses his runic language essays to the depths of Kaveh’s bag when the perpetually late student wakes up and starts to throw whatever paper he can find into his bag. It’s never his blueprints. There was also a time where Kaveh had worn Alhaitham’s Haravatat robes to his lecture, oblivious to the smirks from his classmates. Tighnari and Cyno have never let either of them live that down.

Kaveh has slowly become much more tactile. He’ll link an arm around Alhaitham’s as they walk, dragging his junior through the halls. When Alhaitham dozes off in their study sessions, Kaveh will guide his head onto his lap and run his fingers through the silver locks, Alhaitham unconsciously humming at the touch. When Alhaitham, a master at casual touches, melts into Kaveh, he will silently pull his junior closer with an arm around his shoulders or a hand splayed across his back. Kaveh finds himself enjoying Alhaitham’s warmth, melting into him whenever they’re alone together. When Alhaitham reaches out, he doesn’t flinch; he simply lets him pull him closer. For once, he doesn’t fear another person’s touch against his skin.

Not only with Alhaitham, but with Tighnari and Cyno too. He’s still working up the courage to start casual touches with Tighnari and Cyno, but doesn’t startle at the feeling of Tighnari’s calloused fingers on his arm or Cyno’s hand hovering over his back. Nowadays, Kaveh will burst into Alhaitham’s dorm room, closing the door behind him and letting out a heavy sigh, and start complaining about his class, his classmates, his professors, anything really. He flops onto Alhaitham’s bed and glares at his junior from where he sits at his desk, not paying attention to Kaveh’s obvious plight. On the odd days where Kaveh enters silently, Alhaitham will glance over from where he reads on his bed and sit up, gesturing for Kaveh to sit on the floor between his legs. His junior braids his hair with practiced fingers, pinning it up with his red resin clips. Occasionally he’ll hum, Kaveh leaning back and relishing in the surprisingly emotive tone.

Feeling closer to the boy now than he has in the year that they’ve known each other, he asks Alhaitham if he wants to start a joint thesis together. Alhaitham readily agrees, cheeks flushing a soft pink as his fingers curl around Kaveh’s, and they decide on their topic without much argument: Decoding the Runes and Architectural Philosophy of the Ruins of King Deshret's Civilization.

This is the beginning of the end, something Kaveh never could’ve predicted.

Their pair turns into a group when rumour spreads that Kshahrewar’s top student is finally starting his thesis. Kaveh is initially overwhelmed, it was just supposed to be something between him and his junior. Everyone has their own topics to research and present when they come together at the end of the week. Alhaitham is apprehensive around his groupmates, Kaveh even more so. They all seem to admire Kaveh, every pair of sparkling eyes focused on him as he shuffles to the head of the table to present his findings. Kaveh stammers through his sentences and, for some reason, they all applaud when Kaveh sits back down. The senior’s face erupts into a furious blush as he shrinks in his seat. Alhaitham decides he doesn’t like them.

All of them have rather strong personalities. Most of them are from Kshahrewar, with a pair of outlying Vahumana scholars that joined at the last minute. They spend the study sessions gossiping loudly, and Kaveh has to resist the urge to escape the research centre for the peace and quiet of his dorm room. They have raucous laughs, piercing to the ears. Kaveh’s shoulders will tense and his hand will flinch, sending a line of graphite across the page. Alhaitham notices, of course he does, and clears his throat. They stay quiet after that.

Kaveh knows that Alhaitham dislikes their groupmates, he’s not subtle about it. He takes his hearing aids off as soon as they sit down, leaving them to hang around his neck lest one of their peers tries to swipe them. Kaveh will nudge him when one of their groupmates have a question he can’t answer and Alhaitham will sigh like it pains him, sliding his hearing aids back on with a flat look. His replies to them are always waspish, sharp and blunt in a way that makes Kaveh squeeze his thigh tightly underneath the table in warning.

What Alhaitham doesn’t know is how their classmates talk about Kaveh when his headphones are off, whispering loudly as if Kaveh can’t hear them. They clearly respect his work ethic, asking for study tips and reliable citations, but Kaveh sees the way their smiles sharpen, and hears their barely concealed laughter. They talk about Alhaitham like no one can hear them but Kaveh can, he just can’t find the courage to scold them. He’s “uncaring” and “cold”. They call him stupid for starting later than most, as if he isn’t scoring high marks in subjects that are still years above him. They don’t know anything.

Worst of all, Kaveh can’t do anything about it. He can’t speak up, won’t speak up, and so they continue because they know he would never tell them off. His face flushes red and his hands start to tremble, he feels utterly powerless. Alhaitham must notice something’s wrong because he starts leaving his hearing aids on for their study sessions. Kaveh really appreciates him.

When the first person drops out, Kaveh has to hold back a sigh of relief. They’re very apologetic, rambling on to Kaveh, but Kaveh has seen the way their smile sharpens into something sinister when they think he’s not looking. Kaveh waves his hands in front of him, offering them a shaky smile as they hand him their research binder and prance away. He adds it to the ever-growing pile. His eyebrows twitch, a minute detail that he knows Alhaitham catches, his eyes burning holes into the side of Kaveh’s head.

Kaveh decides to take action before they lose more group members. He starts to help them out with their work. He writes out structure plans for essays and edits blueprints, fixing any mistakes he spots at the expense of his own progress, and writes entire bibliographies and citation records. Alhaitham watches him from across the table, eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned.

Alhaitham pulls him aside during one of their breaks, sporting a deeply unimpressed frown. “What do you think you’re doing?” He hisses, staring into Kaveh’s eyes.

“Helping?” Kaveh replies, tilting his head in confusion. “We’re going to fall behind otherwise.”

“It’s not your job to help them, Kaveh.”

Kaveh’s face twists into something affronted. He glares at Alhaitham, lips drawn into a deep pout, and takes ahold of his hands. “I’m helping because I want to. I know that might be a foreign concept to you, but it’s true.” Kaveh mutters, voice full of thinly-veiled frustration. Alhaitham glances at his dark eyebags, his bitten-down nails, his pale skin, and decides to keep his mouth shut. Kaveh huffs at Alhaitham’s lack of reply and shuffles back to the table to continue his work.

Through the week, another two people drop out, and by the end of the month, it’s just him and Alhaitham. Most nights, Kaveh works under lamp light as his eyes threaten to slide shut. His hands are perpetually shaky now, which makes it hard to draw up blueprints and throw together models, but he persists. Alhaitham sits to his side like a sentinel, watching as Kaveh runs himself ragged trying to single-handedly make up the workload for an absent group.

The days pass in blur. Alhaitham walks through the front door, hanging up his scarf on a hook in the entryway. Kaveh doesn’t shift to acknowledge him, he merely continues sketching in his notebook. It’s midnight, way past the time Alhaitham would usually be in bed, but Kaveh is still sitting in the same place he was when Alhaitham left hours ago. He taps Kaveh on the shoulder, wincing at how gaunt he looks.

“Kaveh, you need to take a break.” Alhaitham murmurs. Kaveh blinks slowly, taking his time to register what Alhaitham’s telling him. He shakes his head, joints clicking loudly.

“I just need to finish this first.” Kaveh slurs. He sounds like he’s half-asleep, eyes drooping dangerously. Alhaitham frowns and plucks the pencil from Kaveh’s fingers, tucking it into his pocket. Kaveh watches him do it, grunting in protest.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. You need to rest, Kaveh. You look sick.” Alhaitham hesitantly reaches out to cup Kaveh’s cheek, running his thumb along his cheekbone softly. Kaveh’s eyes slide shut and he leans into the feeling, Alhaitham’s hand cool against his heated skin. “Please?”

With all of his might, Kaveh cracks an eye open to see Alhaitham’s openly pleading expression. It would be so easy to lean into his junior’s warmth, to curl up in his arms and catch up on all the sleep he’s missed. Alhaitham would welcome him, he would carefully take out all of Kaveh’s clips and swipe away the graphite smudges across his cheeks. He wants nothing more. Maybe when they finish up their thesis, he can hole up in Alhaitham’s dorm room and sleep a week away.

Kaveh looks away, shaking his head softly. He takes his pencil back and turns away from Alhaitham, sluggishly continuing his work on the half-drawn blueprints sprawled across the table. “I can’t, Alhaitham. I just need to finish this, I’ll rest afterwards.” The sound Alhaitham makes in response is something sad, crestfallen, but he sits beside Kaveh and lets him work.

With Kaveh steadily running himself into the ground, the day soon comes where their project blows up in their faces.

It starts with a disagreement over Kaveh’s work ethic. Alhaitham tells him that he needs to take a break and Kaveh sighs, ignoring his words. Alhaitham repeats himself and Kaveh snaps an “I heard you the first time”. Alhaitham carries on in the way he always does, blunt and factual, and Kaveh turns around to glare at him, scowl plastered on his face. Their disagreement turns into an argument, which turns into a fight, words sharp and poised to hurt.

“Maybe if you helped out more, our thesis wouldn’t have fallen apart!” Kaveh yells, throwing his hands up in frustration. He gestures to the tower of paperwork he has yet to file through, eyes locked with Alhaitham’s. “Look at it! We wouldn’t have all this work left to do if your ego wasn’t so big, Archons forbid you help out for once!”

“There shouldn’t be anything to help with, it’s a difference in ability, Kaveh.” Alhaitham spits out Kaveh’s name like the very word disgusts him. Kaveh flinches, taking a step back, but Alhaitham continues, letting out everything he’s bottled up from watching Kaveh mistreat himself for so long. “This isn’t charity work, this is our education. You shouldn’t have to complete someone else's work just because they couldn’t handle the pressure.”

“I can’t believe you!” Kaveh cries, stomping up to Alhaitham and prodding his finger into his chest. “It’s like you don’t even care; not about our thesis, or our groupmates, or me. You think you shouldn’t have to help because you’re, what, a genius or something? You refused to help and now look at what’s left!” Kaveh can feel tears welling up in his eyes. “We have nothing left, Alhaitham.”

“And that’s supposed to be my problem?” Kaveh whips his head up to glare at Alhaitham, shocked at the amount of rage in his junior’s teal eyes. “You started this project, not because you wanted to make a change, not because you wanted to build something special together - with me - but because of your misplaced sense of altruism. You refused to let others bear the consequences of their own actions and now you are paying the price.”

Kaveh’s mouth drops open, his heart slamming against his chest. Alhaitham’s right, he always is. Kaveh tries to backtrack, tries to de-escalate the situation like he usually does, but Alhaitham leans closer. Kaveh can feel his breath fanning across his face, can see the simmering anger shining in his irises. Kaveh sucks in a shaky breath, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“You have always been a relentless idealist, Kaveh. This never would’ve worked in the first place, not even with you coddling our groupmates.” Alhaitham hisses. His expression twists into a scowl, something Kaveh’s seen so often on his face, though never directed at him. His stomach turns upside down. “You're trying so hard to escape reality, downplay your problems until they disappear, but they never will. You're too overcome with your own sense of guilt to see that."

Kaveh chokes on a sob, shoving Alhaitham away. Hot tears streak down his cheeks as he turns to grab his copy of their thesis paper from the table. Alhaitham watches him through narrowed eyes, which widen when he realises what Kaveh’s about to do. He reaches out but it’s too late.

Kaveh rips it in half and lets it flutter onto the floor. Alhaitham stares at him in shock, hand still outstretched towards Kaveh. Kaveh lets out a clipped sob, hiding it behind his trembling hands. His bottom lip trembles and his teeth ache from grinding them together so hard. He glares at Alhaitham defiantly, standing tall over the two halves of paper lying on the floor below.

“I wish I never met you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh whispers, his raspy voice betraying his bone-deep exhaustion. A tear runs down Alhaitham’s face as he stares at Kaveh, aghast. Kaveh’s fingers twitch at his side, desperate to wipe it away. I’ve never seen Alhaitham cry before.

Kaveh jerks forward to grab his shoulder bag and his ripped copy of their thesis. On his way to the door, he hears Alhaitham sniffle. His heart shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. He throws the door open and slams it shut behind himself, stepping into the lowly-lit streets to walk back to his dorm room. Though he keeps a solemn face, blood still roars in his ears and his tears still drip onto the pavement.

Lying under his duvet that night, moonlight shining through his undrawn curtains, Kaveh cries. He knows his eyes will be red and swollen the next day, and he knows the regret of today’s words will sit with him forever.

Like everything else, it’s all his fault.

-

Eight years pass.

Kaveh graduates a year after his falling out with his junior, Alhaitham graduates not long after. He has always been a genius. Kaveh hears about the graduation ceremony and, though they haven’t talked since that night, he has to bury the urge to attend. They’re not friends anymore, they’re not anything anymore.

They argue through annotations in academic journals and on the city signboards. Neither of them sign their name but Kaveh recognises Alhaitham’s neat handwriting, and he’s sure Alhaitham recognises his cursive script or he wouldn’t be replying at all.

Kaveh throws himself into his work, working under a senior he had at the Akademiya for a few years before branching off to take clients of his own. It’s difficult to make a name for himself but the first time he’s referred to as the Light of Kshahrewar, second coming of Pir Kavikavus, his heart soars.

Kaveh feels as if he’s floating, but maybe he’s just trying to stay afloat. Most people in Sumeru know his name now, even if the thought sends a shiver down his spine. He has a steady influx of commissions, including those from Lambad and the officials in Port Ormos. He hears about Alhaitham, the man having recently been promoted to the Akademiya’s scribe, but he pays the whispers and rumours no heed and continues with his work.

Tighnari and Cyno keep in contact through letters, Cyno living closer to him in the city while Tighnari lives and works out of Gandharva Ville. They had recently adopted a daughter, a battered young girl named Collei, who lived with Tighnari and while he’s been meaning to visit, Kaveh keeps getting sidetracked. Supposedly, Cyno had brought her home after a mission in Mondstadt and after hearing about her ‘story’, whatever it may be, he took Cyno and Collei into Sumeru City in order to sign the papers. In his letter, he wrote, “I would rather her have a home and a family that she doesn’t love, than nothing at all.”

A commission comes in on a sunny summer’s day from Lord Sangemah Bay, requesting a palace to be built in her honour. Kaveh stares at the paper in shock, turning it over in his hands several times in disbelief. He sends back a letter with his approval, and immediately starts drawing up blueprints for the build. She tells him that she’s happy with whatever he has in mind, as long as it’s large and extravagant, and the build starts shortly after.

The construction moves along smoothly for a while. The team he’s been assigned listens to his ideas and they get along well, often eating lunch in a small crowd of laughter and warmth. The weather stays good, almost as if mother nature herself smiles down upon them, whispering well wishes on a cool breeze. Everyday they continue working, more and more people stop to watch them. At first, all the curious eyes interrupted his focus and made him stagger, though now he can mostly tune them out with an air of concentration. Out of all the people he sees, Kaveh notices a brunette that hangs around often, her eyes wide with wonder, and her Kshahrewar badge shiny and new.

During the throes of construction and last minute alterations, he’s called back to his childhood home to visit his mother. When he knocks, she opens the door and steps aside to let him in without so much as a greeting. He perches on the turquoise divan, knee bouncing relentlessly. The kettle whistles where it sits on hot sand, making Kaveh wince until his mother has mercy and lifts it. She slides back into the room, placing a teacup on the coffee table in front of Kaveh and sitting down with a huff.

Kaveh peers at her from the corner of his eye. It’d been a few months since he had last visited, though this is the first visit in a while where he’s expected to stay for more than ten minutes. Her skirt folds over her lap gracefully, her hair spills over her shoulders in golden waves, and her skin is a shiny olive. She looks healthy. For the first time since his father’s death, she genuinely looks healthy, like she’s not going to disintegrate if he speaks too loudly or gets too close. She might even be wearing makeup, her cheeks are dusted with a pink, her lips are a glossy coral.

“Maman-”

“Kaveh.” She cuts him off, setting her teacup on its saucer gently. Her voice is a lot softer compared to when he was a child but he still flinches, his name in her mouth still sends goosebumps across his skin to this day. Her voice is a lot softer compared to when he was a child, “There is something I have been meaning to share with you.”

Kaveh sits straighter, pinned to the divan by her piercing vermillion eyes. He glances around and notices a few things missing from the shelves, as well as a small tower of boxes sitting on the dining table. “Maman, what’s going on?”

“I’m moving, Kaveh. Back to Fontaine, back home.” She lets out a deep breath, taking a sip of her tea and placing it back on its saucer with a clink. The word “home” sends a dagger through Kaveh’s chest. “I’ve met someone. He’s a fellow architect, and his designs are unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I feel happy again.” She reaches over to take Kaveh’s hand in hers and squeezes it softly. Kaveh freezes, thoughts whirling around his head like a tornado. “I want you to be happy, too. You don’t need to hold on to your guilt anymore, Kaveh. It was never your fault.”

Kaveh staggers onto his feet, shaking off her hand as tears pool in his eyes. His lip curls as he looks down at his mother, who stares up at him in shock. “Never? Never?! You told me everyday that it was my fault until I moved out of this house! Do you know how damaging that was, telling your 8 year-old son that it’s his fault his father is dead?”

“Kaveh, I’m sorry-”

“I do not want your apologies, especially those of which that are years too late. Baba was depressed, you knew that, and you still blamed me. Why? What did I ever do to you?” Silent tears streak down her cheeks, her lip trembles. She hangs her head, tears dripping onto her skirt. Kaveh sighs, the fight leaving his body. “When do you leave?”

Her voice is small. “N-next month. From Bayda Harbor to Romaritime Harbor.”

“I’ll be there.” She peers up at him from under her eyelashes. He turns toward the entryway. “I will see you off, but nothing more. You were cruel, Maman.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, Kaveh. My son.” Kaveh’s jaw clenches and his eyes squeeze shut. So many years of being consumed by guilt, so many years of believing he’s not good enough, so many years of pushing away people he loves so as not to hurt them. It’s the first time she’s called him that since before his father died, Kaveh feels his heart shredding itself into ribbons. Wordlessly, he walks out of the house and into the busy city streets.

No one pays him any attention. It’s midday, which means the streets are packed with people. He follows a small clump of scholars in front of him, leaving them to jostle people out of the way. A shoulder bumps against his and he grunts, but doesn’t look up. The stranger smells like freshly brewed coffee and ink from the quill, Kaveh hears a sharp intake of breath. He murmurs an apology and continues on his way.

The rest of his afternoon and evening he spends crying, curled up under his duvet while he clutches a photo close to his chest. His mother grins brightly, his father’s arm slung over her shoulders, while Kaveh stands between them, striking the coolest pose he could think of at 4 years-old. When he falls asleep, it’s with drying tears tracks on his cheeks, and when he blinks his eyes open the next morning, the dying screams of his father and grief-stricken wails of his mother are fresh in his mind.

Close to a month passes and Kaveh’s a few days away from bidding his mother farewell at the Harbor when Tighnari appears at the Palace, as per his request. Cyno follows, a small green-haired girl trailing behind him. Her eyes dart around, landing on Kaveh as he walks closer.

“Tighnari, Cyno.” With a nod to both of them, he crouches down to Collei’s level. “You must be Collei. It’s nice to finally meet you, my name’s Kaveh.” She cowers behind Cyno’s leg, gripping onto the back of his shendyt and peeking out at Kaveh nervously. Cyno chuckles. His hand moves to ruffle her hair but freezes and drops back to his side.

“Kaveh.” Tighnari calls. Kaveh’s joints click as he stands back up and turns to Tighnari, the man standing in front of the Palace with his hands on his hips. Standing next to Tighnari, they gaze out at the barren land around the Palace. “It’s a bit sparse around here. I suppose you need my help?”

“Archons, please. I have no idea what I’m doing.” Tighnari’s ears perk up in surprise. He gazes over the half-built palace, foundations placed and paths laid, and nods slowly.

“I can help you out. Do you know what you’re wanting?” Kaveh wrings his hands and looks away from Tighnari’s unimpressed expression. “Were you wanting local flora? Padisarahs and roses?” Kaveh hums, unsure. While any kind of flower is lovely, he can’t help but see the Palace standing tall among bursts of pink, white and blue.

“While that sounds beautiful, I was thinking more like… Marcottes, cecilias, glaze lilies - flowers fit for a palace, you know? Is there anything you can do?” Kaveh asks, opting to stare at the ground, expecting Tighnari’s refusal. There’s a sigh and a gloved hand clapping him on the shoulder.

“You underestimate me. Of course I can do that for you.” Kaveh peers up at him, surprise clear on his face. “I have out-of-nation connections. I’ll contact them and get in touch with you in a few days.”

“You are a lifesaver, ‘Nari!” Kaveh pulls him into a loose hug that Tighnari pretends to hate, but squeezes Kaveh tightly all the same. When they part, he notices Collei peeking out at them, her big amethyst eyes shining in awe. Kaveh smiles at her and she shuffles to hide further behind Cyno’s leg.

“I’ll get right on that, then.” Tighnari turns back to Cyno and Collei, who give him matching smiles. He peers over his shoulder at Kaveh and smiles softly. “The palace will be beautiful, Kaveh. You’ve done well.”

Well, if that doesn’t make Kaveh want to cry. He gives Tighnari a final side hug and watches him pad back over to Cyno and Collei. He returns to his family, fingers intertwining with Cyno’s while his free hand hovers over the small of Collei’s back. Cyno says something and Tighnari’s ears fold flat against his head, his groan echoing through the forest. Kaveh watches them walk away, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He hopes he gets the chance to have a family like theirs in the future, one that doesn’t fall apart around him. Soft teal eyes flash in his mind unhelpfully and he huffs, whipping around to face the palace. Not again.

Kaveh distracts himself by lining plots for garden beds and helping his fellow workers place pillars for a gazebo. In a moment of peace, Kaveh can’t help but admire how far they’ve come in such a short time. The gazebo is only missing the roof now, lush bushes line the walkways, and the walls of the palace are halfway finished. Kaveh waves at the construction workers as they leave to go home, busy organising tiles for the roofing job tomorrow, and leaves a few hours later when the moon starts peeking over the mountains.

The next few days of construction pass by in a blur. There’s a sickness going around the workers, so Kaveh takes on extra work to make up for the lack of hands. His hands are calloused and covered in scratches and bruises, and he permanently smells like stone and sawdust. Every joint in his body aches, begging him to rest, but he pushes through the pain and helps out where he can.

He meets his mother at Bayda Harbor. She stands in front of him with her suitcase at her side. Her fingers twitch like she wants to reach out for him but she doesn’t, and Kaveh doesn’t either. When the boat arrives, she boards, glancing back at Kaveh with a hesitant wave. He returns it with his own, and she’s gone. Kaveh stands at the pier for a while afterwards, watching the ship as it becomes a tiny speck in the distance and then disappears fully. He spends the rest of his afternoon at Bayda Harbor, having an early dinner and turning in for the night while the sun still peeks out over the mountains. The next day, he finds himself in Gandharva Ville, where he inevitably breaks down to Cyno and Tighnari, with Collei out on a forest patrol for the evening.

As the sun rises on a new day, Kaveh blinks groggily. His eyes hurt and his limbs feel heavy, but progress waits for no one. He spots Tighnari at the city gate, tapping his foot impatiently against the cobblestone. The sun is barely peeking over the mountains, Tighnari must’ve left pretty early to meet him here. Kaveh raises a hand in greeting, a tired smile on his face, but Tighnari doesn’t wave back. He gazes at Kaveh with a deeply sorrowful look, like a wordless apology.

“Have you heard?”

“Heard what?” Tighnari hums, glancing away. “You’re starting to scare me, Nari.”

“... Let's go.”

Tighnari turns to walk away, Kaveh stumbles to catch up. The walk is quiet, any attempts to catch Tighnari’s attention are brushed off. The path Kaveh takes everyday runs through Gandharva Ville, and Collei waves out to them, handing over a canteen of water to each of them.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kaveh.” Collei murmurs, her eyebrows furrowed and frame shrunk inwards. Kaveh recognises the expression well - pity. Kaveh frowns, which Collei notices immediately. Her face erupts into a red flush, tears building in the corners of her eyes, and she looks between him and Tighnari. “I-I’m sorry, do you not know?”

“Let’s go.” Tighnari speaks before Kaveh can reply. He hands his canteen back to Collei with a nod and she scurries away, leaving Kaveh standing alone on the wooden bridge, Tighnari already a distance away. Kaveh huffs out a shaky breath as he catches up to Tighnari, grabbing him by the wrist to stop his stride.

“Will you please tell me what’s going on?” Kaveh pleads, his voice raspy. Tighnari’s eyebrows twitch, glancing over at Kaveh. Something’s definitely wrong, Kaveh feels dread stirring deep in his stomach. Is something wrong with the Palace? Has someone taken off with their materials in the middle of the night? Or worse, has the construction crew been laid off? Tighnari sighs, mouth flattening into a grim line.

“We’re meeting Cyno at the Palace.” Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Tighnari winces when he mentions the Palace. “Something’s happened and I need you to see it for yourself. If I tell you now, you’ll just do something reckless.” Kaveh opens his mouth to protest but Tighnari cuts him off again. “Don’t. I know you, Kaveh. Now, let’s go.”

Kaveh doesn’t say anything for the rest of the walk, just lets him go and follows quietly. Anxiety floods his body, a familiar feeling, and makes his stomach turn and his hands tremble. The forest is noticeably quiet, no rishboland tigers watching them from the trees or dusk birds squawking overhead. The sun has risen, though now covered by dark grey clouds and giving them very little light through the trees. Tighnari ploughs on anyway.

At the turn-off to Mawtiyima Forest, Kaveh spots a familiar streak of white hair. Tighnari breaks into a jog, stopping next to Cyno and whispering something to him while Kaveh still approaches. He turns, vermillion eyes locking onto Kaveh’s. A shiver runs down his spine, he’s seen Cyno’s deathly serious looks but never directed at him. This is not the stare of Cyno, but of the General Mahamatra.

“Kaveh.” He says, startling Kaveh. His voice is deep, jaw set. He takes a deep breath, Tighnari placing his hand on the small of his back in support. When he speaks again, it sets alarm bells off in Kaveh’s head. “I’m afraid you will have to pause construction on the Palace.”

Kaveh takes off. He pushes through Cyno and Tighnari, nearly tripping over his own feet as he breaks into a sprint down the hill. “Kaveh!” Tighnari shouts, voice panicked. They chase after him, two pairs of feet pounding against the dirt path, but Kaveh doesn’t slow down. Stepping out of the forest, he lays his eyes on the Palace and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

It’s worse than he ever could’ve imagined. Not someone, something. The Withering.

It’s in pieces. There are deep cracks that run up the walls, and the pillars are shattered. Water from the broken fountain streams across the paths, or what’s left of them, and drips into the ravine below. The grass is stained a murky grey colour, the air is heavy with dust. The wheelbarrows filled with exotic flowers are torn apart, dirty petals and crumpled stems strewn everywhere. Kaveh slows to a stop at the end of the path, dropping to his knees.

The Palace of Alcazarzaray, his magnum opus, is destroyed.

Tighnari and Cyno stand behind him, keeping their distance to give him space. Tears pool in his eyes and streak down his cheeks, dripping onto the grass. He can’t take his eyes off of the ruins, white brick walls crumbled to dust and roofing tiles thrown haphazardly across the area. Numbly, Kaveh lifts his trembling hands up in front of his eyes, inspecting the cuts, scratches, callouses and bruises over his skin, the signs of his effort, his hard work. He bends over, digging his fingers in the dirt, and lets out a wail that rips itself from the back of his throat.

A hand smooths over his spine, rubbing across his shirt in comfort. He recognises the feeling of Tighnari’s glove, thick and clunky, and pushes himself up. Tighnari gazes at him, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, hand moving to rest on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Kaveh. The Withering set in overnight, there was nothing we could do.” Kaveh lets out a choked sob, leaning forward to bury his face into Tighnari’s neck.

“How- How could this- I mean, why…” Tighnari pulls him closer, one hand on the back of his neck, the other resting between his shoulder blades. Cyno crouches down beside them, his thumb brushing over the small of Kaveh’s back. “Why does this always happen to me…” Kaveh’s voice is small, fragile. Tighnari holds him tighter. The sky takes that moment to unleash a downpour, fat raindrops pouring over the three of them. Tighnari’s ears flatten against his head, Cyno pulls his headpiece further down to cover his eyes.

Kaveh’s clothes soak through, cold seeping through his skin to wrap around his bones. His shirt sticks to him like a second skin and the ends of his cape sit limply by his feet. He shudders in Tighnari’s arms, fingers gripping tighter onto the fabric of his hoodie. The last time he felt this upset, this angry, this hopeless, was eight years ago. Kaveh sobs loudly. Why this? Why now? Does his perseverance not matter? His effort, his protection, his sheer will - is it not enough? Has it ever been enough?

The next week passes by in a blur. The rain doesn’t let up for days, and when it does, it leaves with an almighty thunderstorm that shakes the walls of Kaveh’s house. Without the background noise of raindrops pattering against the roof or the deep rumbling overhead, it’s too quiet. When the sun comes out the next morning, reflecting off of puddles in the road, Lord Sangemah Bay herself pays Kaveh a visit.

Kaveh invites her in and she plops down on one of the divans, folding one leg over the other and chiding him for being so formal with her. Before Kaveh can ask her if she wants a drink or something to eat, she speaks up. With the destruction of her new home, the half-built Palace, she proposes Kaveh come up with something smaller and less expensive. Kaveh feels his heart drop as she completely disregards the Palace, twirling a lock of pink hair around her finger. He interrupts her, ignoring the way her eyes narrow, and insists on continuing the construction of the Palace.

They go back and forth for a while - Dori claiming that not only will it be a total waste of Mora, but a waste of time and effort from all parties involved, while Kaveh argues back that the Palace is too great to discard so simply, and so many workers depend on its construction to stay in the city. His voice is shaky, where Dori’s is strong. Dori stands to leave, threatening to find another architect if Kaveh won’t cooperate, but she stops when he blurts out that he’ll pay for it.

Her interest piqued, she peers at him over her shoulder. He doubles down. If she pays for the site preparations, he’ll pay the rest of the bills and help with the construction himself. While they negotiate, Kaveh ponders his funds. He’ll have to start by emptying whatever he has in his pockets, as well as everything in his savings accounts. Even still, that won’t be close to enough. He’ll have to sell the house. The house will make the most difference in his debt, even though he will still have a large amount to pay afterwards.

Dori leaves not long after their conversation ends. The house is silent, Kaveh looks around at the photos hanging on the walls and the trinkets lining dusty shelves. He can still envision his mother humming at the stove as she stirs soup around a large pot for their dinner, while his father plays the dutar on the divan, Kaveh perched next to him with a matching instrument in his arms. That was a while ago, however, and Kaveh won’t ever get to experience it again. It’s best that he sells the house now to avoid getting caught up in his head in the future, thinking about what could’ve been.

The end of the week is purely transactional. Kaveh sells his house and most of the items in the house, as well as emptying every account he has under his name. He drops off all of his Mora to Dori and returns to the house to spend one final night in his childhood home.

Looking around the living room, Kaveh's chest feels hollow. The shelves and walls are empty, the gold-tasseled throw pillows on the divans are gone, and there’s odd gaps in the dust that lines every surface. Kaveh lights up a few candles and pulls out what few ingredients he has left from the fridge and pantry. He decides on making fatteh, blinking back tears as he imagines his father’s guiding hands helping him place pieces of biscuit into the yogurt sauce. He displays it on an ornate plate that a junior had once gifted him, the fragile Palace of Alcazarzaray sitting tall over the pool of yogurt sauce and glabrous beans.

Kaveh’s eyes slip shut and he sends a prayer up to the ceiling. As a family, they never prayed before eating, nor did Kaveh start when everything fell apart, but it just feels right at this moment. If his father is watching him from above right now, he hopes that he’s proud of his choices thus far. Cracking his eyes open, he starts breaking off pieces of biscuit to dip in the sauce below when he notices a faint green glow between the faux-Palace walls. Kaveh peeks into his creation and gasps at the sight of a pulsing dendro vision sitting on a broken piece of biscuit.

He picks it up, brushing crumbs off of the bronze casing. If not his father, then someone was listening to his prayer. He clips it onto his beltloop and moves to stare at himself in the ornamental mirror propped up against the wall. Neither of his parents had a vision. Maybe if his father had one, would he have won the tournament? Would he still be here today?

There’s a knock at the door, startling Kaveh out of his reverie. Glowing vines crawl from his vision and wrap around his waist, tugging him towards the door. Opening it, a gust of wind sweeps past, dead leaves scattered over the cobblestone paths. Tighnari stands on the doorstep, ears pressed against his head in distaste, while Cyno stands behind him, staring out over the port. At the creak of the door, they turn to him.

“Kaveh.” Tighnari greets him, his face softening as he takes in Kaveh’s frail form. Cyno comes up beside Tighnari with a nod, lips pursing as he gives Kaveh a once-over. Do I really look that bad? Kaveh smooths down his shirt, shifting uncomfortably under their scrutiny. Tighnari steps forward. “How have you been?”

“I’m… fine. It’s been a busy week.” Kaveh avoids their probing eyes. He’s not going to tell them. It’s shameful, the Light of Kshahrewar falling into a spiral of debt, and it’s no one’s fault but his own. Tighnari and Cyno wouldn’t treat him any different, he knows that, but it’s a matter of his own pride. He’s despondent, homeless, and they would worry about him, adding more to their plate when they’re already so busy with their own problems. There’s a firm grip around his forearm, Cyno’s palm scalding on his skin. Kaveh turns away and pushes the door wider, Cyno’s hand falling from his arm when he steps aside. “Please, come in.”

Cyno slides past Kaveh, his footsteps dull against the hardwood floors, while Tighnari pads in behind him, tail twitching suspiciously. The door closes with a click and Kaveh shuffles back over to his plate of fatteh. He hears faint voices, and peering over at them, their heads are bowed together, murmuring between each other - no doubt about how haggard and exhausted Kaveh must look.

“Is everything okay?” Cyno asks. He fully turns to face Kaveh, his vermillion eyes pierce Kaveh’s crimson ones. “You seem off, is there something going on?”

“I told you guys that I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” Kaveh bites down on a piece of biscuit, the crumbs skittering across the plate. He’s never been a good liar, especially in the face of two people who know him.

“I can think of a few reasons.” Tighnari mutters. Cyno nudges him in the side.

Kaveh sighs, looking down at his plate. “Look, I’ve just been really busy with commissions. After the Palace fell, I suppose a lot of people have finally realised my genius.” It sounds like a lie, even to his ears.

“Is that so….” Tighnari glances around the room, brows furrowing deeper and deeper. Kaveh shrinks, it seems he’s finally noticed the issue. “Kaveh, what is going on? Why is the house so empty?”

“Ah… that.” Kaveh glances at them from the corner of his eye. Tighnari’s hands are on his hips, ears flicking irritably, and Cyno stares at him, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “I decluttered. A lot of it was my mothers, she couldn’t take much to Fontaine.”

“You decluttered? There’s nothing left.” Kaveh’s shoulders hunch, wincing with every word Tighnari says. “The rug is gone, the shelves are bare, and you have candles lit. You hate candles.”

Kaveh sighs. Tighnari sees through him too easily, he always has.

“Fine. Truth be told, I… sold the house.” Kaveh starts. Almost immediately, Tighnari’s ears flatten against his head, mouth opening to protest, and Cyno squares his shoulders. “It was of my own accord, I swear! I just- I can’t bear to stay here.”

It’s the truth. Living in a house where he constantly feels the loss of his family, where he has to walk into the kitchen and hear the ghost of his father humming over the stove, or open the patterned curtains to see the spindly stalks of dead vegetable plants left behind by his mother. Whenever he’s inside, he feels restless, captive, so he stays out any chance he gets. The Palace was a good distraction, and when that didn’t fill a hole, Lambad quickly grew used to seeing him hunched over at the bar. The shadows hide memories, and the smallest things bring him back to his childhood. The creaky floorboards, the pipes that squeal and pop when he takes a shower, and the windows that rattle whenever they’re opened and closed. The stained countertops from curry gone wrong, the chipped dishes from slippery fingers, the burnt hole in the bathroom linoleum from a dropped match.

“It must be hard living in a house with so many memories.” Cyno murmurs. Kaveh bows his head with a bitter smile. He knows Cyno’s past, as does Tighnari, and if there’s anyone who would understand what he’s going through, it’d be Cyno. He’s grateful to have a friend like him, even if everyone else thinks he’s hard-headed and ruthless.

“You get it.” Kaveh breathes, the tension flowing out of him like a river. Tighnari glances between them, squinting at Kaveh for a long moment. His tail brushes across the hardwood floors with a sweeping sound as it twitches and sways. “Look, ‘Nari. I can’t stay here. This house is- it’s a cage and I need to get out.”

Tighnari chews on his lip, eyebrows furrowing, until he finally sighs. “Fine, fine. If that’s how you truly feel, then I understand.” Kaveh tilts forward until he’s stumbling into Tighnari’s arms, squeezing him tightly. He huffs, patting Kaveh’s back with a clunky glove. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

“Oh, uh… I’ll figure something out. You don’t have to worry about me.” Tighnari pinches his side, pulling away to level him with a flat expression. Cyno mirrors it over his shoulder, though from him, it feels a lot more like the General Mahamatra stare.

“We do. That’s why we’re here, Kaveh.”

“We always worry about you.”

A warm feeling swirls in Kaveh’s chest. He feels heavy from the guilt crawling up his back and the weight of his newfound debt sitting on his shoulders, and the thought of his friends adding his problems to their pile makes him want to scream. Tighnari’s foot taps against the floor, waiting for Kaveh to say something, and he sighs when it’s clear Kaveh won’t reply. Cyno peels himself away from his partner, his Akasha terminal flashing as he shuffles into a corner of the living room.

“Stay in Gandharva Ville. We have more than enough space.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask. I’m offering.”

“I suppose… fine.”

Cyno rejoins them, a grimace on his face. They leave soon after, Kaveh waving them off on the doorstep. Cyno’s headdress is pulled low, his vision fizzling on his back, while Tighnari runs a gentle hand up and down his bicep. Tighnari whispers something to Cyno and they pause, turning back to face Kaveh.

“We’ll see you tomorrow!” Tighnari calls, waving a hand through the air. Kaveh nods with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, waving back until they disappear over the rise. The door closes and Kaveh’s alone again. He cleans up, washes his plate and sorts out what few things of his are left in the kitchen, and ends the night curled up in a hand-woven blanket from his childhood.

Kaveh’s life is about to get even more hectic starting tomorrow. Moving all of his things into Gandharva Ville from Sumeru City, signing paperwork and starting hands-on work for the Palace, all while still completing commissions for clients. It’s going to be a rough couple of months for him, he just hopes he can get through it without attracting any more issues.

-

The Palace is done.

It’s been several months since Kaveh gave up all of his belongings to continue building the Palace of Alcazarzaray. It would’ve taken over a year had they not been able to salvage a surprising amount of materials from the original build, his vision also helped out with fortification and transporting goods. Dori stayed true to her word - she got the site cleared up and prepped for a new foundation in record time, though that meant Kaveh got no downtime between moving out into the forest and getting into the construction work.

He’s been staying in a small hut in Gandharva Ville, cutting down the commute to the build site by half an hour. When he isn’t working on the Palace, he’s drawing up commissions for clients or helping out the forest rangers, shooing stray spinocrocodiles away when they would venture a little too close to the village. Kaveh’s been thanking the Archons for not giving him a fear of heights because while the view from his hut is gorgeous, it’s also ridiculously far from the ground.

There was a grand celebration for the completion of the Palace, hosted by Lord Sangemah Bay herself. Kaveh hung around for an hour or so before taking his leave, there’s only so much of Dori’s pandering and haggling he can take before he starts to feel ill. When he gets back to Gandharva Ville, he watches Tighnari bark orders at a pair of forest rangers. With the weather getting warmer, they need to start the construction on a few more huts for visitors. Kaveh frowns, glancing over at his own hut, practically identical to all the others, and makes a hasty decision.

He’s finally going to move out, get out of Tighnari and Cyno’s hair and get his own place in the city. So, yeah… Kaveh’s homeless. Again. He appreciates Tighnari for letting him stay for so long but he feels he has long overstayed his welcome. He tells Tighnari as much and gets a smack over the back of his head in return. “Overstaying your welcome? Are you stupid?”

“I am not. I just think, well. You need space for tourism, seeing as how it’s getting closer to summer, and I need to move back to the city, be closer to work and all that.” Kaveh explains, gesturing rapidly. Tighnari’s eyes narrow the more he talks. Kaveh starts to sweat. “Is- Is that okay?”

“I suppose so.” A long sigh. “Kaveh, you’ve never been a bother to us, and you never will be. If what you crave is independence, go for it, but just know that you will always have a spot here in Gandharva Ville.” Tears prick at Kaveh’s eyes and he looks away, forcing a grateful nod. Tighnari claps a hand on his shoulder and tells him to spend the rest of his week with Collei, as she’s the one that’ll be hit the hardest when he leaves.

Collei. She’s warmed up to him considerably in the past few months, from asking him to help her with her handwriting exercises, to bringing home various fresh fruits from her forest patrols. She’s skittish, timid, and flinches at the slightest touch. Kaveh doesn’t pry, but he does teach her to braid her hair when she compliments his. That’s how it starts - her getting frustrated, whining nasally when she can’t get the braiding pattern right, and asking Kaveh to braid her hair. His fingers are gentle in her hair, twisting her green locks until they make a neat pattern. She flinches and shrinks into herself, but protests when Kaveh’s hands leave her head.

Since then, he’s taught her both the Fontainian and Mondstadtian ways of braiding, and rather than wincing when their skin brushes accidentally, she slowly starts to melt into the warmth. Kaveh doesn’t know her story, merely knowing that she has nightmares and has to take bitter-tasting pills to curb them, as well as having an incredibly weak immune system, but now it’s clear to Kaveh that she’s extremely touch-starved, but too scared to ask for anything. In return, Collei’s been bandaging up his hands when they blister from work, holding his hand in hers like it might crumble.

Kaveh still remembers the shy girl he had met a year ago. Wide-eyed and hesitant, her shoulders hunched and her nails bitten down to their beds. After Kaveh moved into Gandharva Ville, it still took a few months for her to open up to him, stilted words and tight smiles eventually turning into something more relaxed and comfortable. She’s not the best with words, still learning how to spell and read, but surprisingly, she’s very good at art. When Kaveh works on his commissions, she joins him in his hut to paint, sew or draw. Kaveh will miss her quiet company.

The sun is setting when Tighnari calls them in for dinner. Collei has been teaching him how to use a bow, to little success, with Cyno standing not far off. Kaveh sets the weapon down, lightly nudging Collei towards the wooden bridge when she starts to complain. He hangs their bows neatly, Cyno clapping him on the back as he passes. When they reach the hut, the placemats are set and Tighnari is ruffling Collei’s hair with a fond smile on his face.

They each take a seat. Cyno and Tighnari glance at each other, eyebrows furrowing, and then over at Kaveh. He nods, clearing his throat. Collei doesn’t glance up from where she’s stuffing a pita pocket full of meat and cheese. “Collei.” She startles, peeking up at him through her eyelashes. “Collei, there’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Her head tilts in confusion, eyes darting from Kaveh to her dads. His throat closes up at the bright gleam in her amethyst eyes, the hopeful smile on her face. Kaveh glances over at Tighnari and shakes his head. He can’t do it, this is going to crush her.

“Kaveh’s moving back to the city.” Cyno says, his tone neutral. Collei drops her pita pocket on her plate, cheese falling over the porcelain lip and onto the tablecloth.

“What?” She whispers, turning to face Kaveh. “Is that true?” He bites his lip and nods, looking down at his plate to not see her sorrowful expression. He clenches his fists underneath the table - nothing good ever happens at the dinner table. “When?”

“Tomorrow.” Tighnari murmurs. She whips around to face him, her mouth hanging open in shock. Tighnari’s knee bumps against Kaveh’s, and he peers up to see a growing crease between Cyno’s eyebrows and Tighnari’s eyebrows shooting up his forehead. Tears gather in Collei’s eyes and a muscle in her jaw ticks. “But don’t worry-”

“Don’t worry? Do you even know me?” She snaps, pushing her chair back with a terrible screech and shooting onto her feet. She stumbles slightly and holds herself up with the lip of the table, Cyno standing quietly in case she falls. Tighnari startles so badly that his knee slams into the table, ears flattening to his head.

“Collei-”

“Kaveh has been the only one here, the only one to stay with me, in months!” She jabs a finger in Tighnari’s direction accusingly. “I only see you on patrols or maybe at dinner! And you,” she turns to Cyno, “I see you once, twice, a month! Parents aren’t supposed to keep secrets and lie, why are you lying to me?!” She sobs, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks. Tighnari stands now, holding his hands out placatingly and trying to explain gently, but she whirls around and stalks outside.

Kaveh sits stock-still in his chair, frozen in place. He remembers the way his mother used to push her dinner away in favour of arguing with him. She would raise her voice, the sound warbled and screechy, and storm off when he wouldn’t respond to her provocation. Kaveh glances across the table at Tighnari, who slouches back into his chair, head falling into his hands. Cyno rubs his back, whispering into his hair.

Kaveh frowns. Tighnari and Cyno are good parents, great parents. They treat Collei well, they don’t yell or guilt-trip or ignore her. They’re welcoming to everyone, responsible and respectable. Collei has grown into a sweet girl - she doesn’t fight or argue, and puts effort into things that others may deem unnecessary. Where his mother would scream with grief, Collei merely smiles bravely, despite all that she might’ve been through. She adapts, taking the lead where others may cower away. Kaveh has never been prouder of her, and of the people that raised her, two of the best people he’s ever met.

Kaveh’s chair rumbles when he slowly pushes it back. Cyno glances over at him and they lock eyes, his vermillion eyes softening when Kaveh nods towards the door. Pushing aside the curtain of leafy fronds, he spots Collei immediately. She sits on the wooden bridge in front of her hut, legs hanging over the edge. Her shoulders are hunched, knuckles white from how hard she’s clenching her fists. Kaveh sits beside her.

Dusk birds chirp in the background, the tall trees above rustle with a gentle breeze, the river bubbles below them. “I don’t want you to leave.” Collei whispers. Kaveh glances over at her - her eyebrows are furrowed deeply and she bites her lip. “Why do you have to go?”

“I’m sorry, Collei. I should’ve told you sooner.” Kaveh murmurs. Collei shrinks into herself and sniffles, wiping away a tear that falls. She takes a moment to compose herself before speaking again, her voice shaky.

“Am I being selfish? I shouldn’t have yelled, I… I-I should apologise… right?” Her voice cracks on the last word. “I’m mad. I’m mad at my dads for lying, letting me think you’ll stay. I’m mad at you for not telling me sooner. I’m so mad, but I can’t help but cry.” She wipes away another tear that falls, sucking in a deep breath. “What do I do?”

Hearing Collei sound so uncertain, there’s a pang in Kaveh’s chest. He gently takes her hand in his and squeezes it. She peeks over at him through her eyelashes. “You do what you feel is right. You’re allowed to be mad, why would that be selfish? You’re only human.” He murmurs, smiling softly. Saying it to Collei, he means it with his whole heart, but to say the same words to himself - it wouldn’t mean a thing.

Collei shuffles closer, laying her head on his shoulder hesitantly. He squeezes her hand again. Kaveh tends to forget how young she is, only being 12. She’s responsible, leading forest patrols by herself and fending off spinocrocodiles from the village’s hydroponic farms. Seeing her everyday, each time with a bright grin or a barely hidden giggle, it’s difficult to picture the sleepless nights when she suffers from recurring nightmares, or shuddering flinches she used to make when their arms would brush accidentally.

“It’s not fair. I want you to stay, I don’t want to be alone again.” Collei says, frowning. “Dad is always so busy. He’s always out in the forest, and he comes home with all sorts of nature samples. His job keeps him busy, which I understand, but it’s the same with baba, who’s out in the desert! Neither of them are ever here…” Collei draws her knees up to her chest, picking at a plaster on her shin.

“Collei, you’re allowed to be upset. Maybe you should talk to them about this - when you’re ready, no rush. You know they’d listen.” Kaveh lets go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders, which she melts into. She hums into her knees and they go silent for a while. Kaveh shivers, regretting leaving his cape inside, and feels Collei shudder under his arm. “Do you want to go back?” He feels the way she shrinks beside him, hears the quick breath she sucks through her teeth. “... Or do you want to go inside and I can read you a book?”

“The second one, please.” Collei sighs in relief. Kaveh stands, offering his hand to her with an amused smile on his face. Together, they go into Collei’s hut and Kaveh picks a book of fairytales from her desk while Collei gets comfortable under her blankets. Opening to the first page, he sees a bunny drawing with a heart and hides his smile behind his hand.

“It’s almost the end of spring. Maybe you could invite Amber to Gandharva Ville for a few weeks.” Kaveh supplies as he flicks through to a classic Sumerian tale. Collei shoots up immediately, blankets falling around her waist. Kaveh glances up at her, a bright red blush spreading across her cheeks to the tips of her ears. “Kidding, kidding.”

“Oh, you are really- I-I mean- … maybe.” Collei stutters, burrowing under her blankets again, hiding her face in her yellow duvet. Kaveh brings Collei's desk chair to the side of her bed with a chuckle, sitting down and beginning to read. It takes a few stories before Collei’s eyes slip shut and her features fully relax, breath coming out in short puffs. He closes the book and sets it on her desk, slouching back in his chair with a quiet sigh and thinks.

Where am I going to go now?

-

Kaveh walks into Sumeru City and pauses, glancing around. As per usual, it’s bustling with street life - street vendors and stall owners alike calling out deals and sales above the murmurs of the crowds, merchants hand out fliers on the corner, and boathands rush past with arms full of net and rope as ships pull into the dock noisily. While he’s missed the background noise of the city, he hasn’t missed navigating the overwhelming crowds as the sun beats down on him. The city is so much warmer than the forest, he notices, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple. He needs to get out of here.

The first place he goes is the House of Daena. It’s open all 24 hours of the day and provides many quiet nooks and crannies to study in. It’s busy today; a group of Rtawahist and Vahumana students have pulled together several tables to create one giant table and are trying to frankenstein a massive piece of construction paper, several Kshahrewar students sit at separate tables, head in hands behind popsicle stick structures, a table bursting with Amurta students and a singular Spantamad student are trying to make heads or tails of a diagram. He glances over at his usual table, hidden behind a tall bookshelf, and swallows. He turns and walks back out into the Akademiya lobby.

The second place he goes is the Razan Gardens, stepping under a gazebo as a cold wind sweeps past. The view hasn’t changed since the last time he was up here but it’s no less breathtaking. Gazing around, he spots a pair of scholars snuggling up on a bench together and glances away. He shivers, remembering the way he came here with his junior, studied in a patch of Padisarahs, and carved their initials into a tree. He hears cheering from below and peers over the railing to see a couple surrounded by an applauding crowd, a man crouched down on one knee in front of a blonde woman. He sighs and walks away.

The third place he goes is Gandharva Ville. It’s been a few days since he left the village and Collei makes it clear how happy she is to see him, practically jumping on him the moment she spots him. She drags him up to her hut to show him a Sumeru Rose she’s been cultivating with Tighnari’s support, then into Tighnari and Cyno’s hut to cook him lunch when his stomach growls loudly, and finally to the river below to practice shooting arrows. Surprisingly, Cyno arrives back first, giving Collei a warm side hug when she bounds over to him. The two of them force Kaveh to stay overnight, and when Tighnari gets home, they have dinner. Kaveh leaves the next day, walking out of the village at dawn with Tighnari’s patrol and separating at a fork in the road.

The fourth place he goes is the Palace of Alcazarzaray. Standing in the gazebo, his fingers twitch against the railing. He can still imagine the cracks in the stone, roofing tiles strewn across the path, grey dust floating through the air. Someone clears their throat behind him and he startles, whipping around to see a vaguely familiar woman twiddling her thumbs.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I in your way?” Kaveh smiles politely, stepping to the side. Hesitantly, the woman walks up to stand beside him, gazing out at the Palace with him.

“Not at all. I come out here almost everyday to visit the Palace. What kind of person would I be if I stopped someone else from viewing its splendor?” She turns to him, her eyes sparkling. Kaveh glances away. “Say, are you Mr. Kaveh?” When he nods, she starts beaming. “I knew it was you! So nice to finally talk to the artist behind such a masterpiece.”

“A-A masterpiece? I wouldn’t go that far…”

“I would. The Palace of Alcazarzaray is a true feat of architectural ingenuity, hand-sculpted and built with the love of a true artist. What you’ve built here is a wonder, a spectacle, something that, without a doubt, represents what it means to be an artist.” She stops to take a deep breath. “I think you’re a great man, Mr. Kaveh, and what you’ve built here after everything that tried to impede your progress… truly, truly amazing.”

Kaveh feels the flush on his face, and his mouth opens and closes around words. What does he say to that? Someone looks up to him so much, but they don’t know the hand he’s been dealt. “U-Um, thank you. I appreciate your kind words.”

“I’m merely speaking the truth, Mr. Kaveh! You truly are the Light of Kshahrewar.”

“Oh, thank you very much. I’m very grateful that someone would view the Palace of Alcazarzary in such a light.” Kaveh smiles shakily, shaking the hand that the other woman holds out to him. A glimmer catches his eye, the late afternoon light catching on the roof tiles of the Palace. “I should get going. Thank you for the pleasant chat, Miss..?”

“Sasani! My name is Sasani.” She grins at him, looking away as the green tiles reflect across her face. “Really, I should be thanking you. I never thought I’d get the chance to talk to a senior I respect so much. It’s been so lovely to meet you, Senior Kaveh.” With a nod in his direction she fully turns away, leaving Kaveh to step out of the gazebo and begin his walk back to the city.

Kusanali above, he needs a drink.

That’s how he ends up at his final destination of the night, Lambad’s tavern. He slouches into a seat at the bar, nodding at Lambad in greeting. He nods back and slides a glass of wine across the bar and into Kaveh’s waiting hand.

It’s busy tonight. A group of scholars surround a table, cheering and clinking their glasses together. A handful of construction workers sit at a small table to his left, muttering among themselves over a thick handbook. Above him, there’s a mighty thump and Lambad sighs, placing down the champagne flute he’s been cleaning and stomping up the stairs. Kaveh’s glad to know people enjoy his contribution to the tavern, the second floor laden with divans and tables for celebrations and meetings.

When he was still a student, he and his junior would make trips to the tavern to pick up bottles of fresh fruit-based cordials after perfect marks on exams or after their finals would wrap up and they were free again, though Alhaitham was always too nervous to accompany him inside. Through the years after his graduation from the Akademiya, he made lone trips to the tavern to curb his evening sadness. Lambad recognised him from his student days, but quickly learnt when to cut him off for the night. It’s been a while but the tavern is the same, and Lambad still knows his order by heart.

Lambad returns to his post, silently stacking clean glasses. A stranger steps into the tavern and Kaveh is immediately overcome with the scent of fresh ink, freshly brewed coffee, and hardback books. It’s strangely familiar, but he can’t quite pinpoint what it reminds him of. Lambad nods at them and slides a piece of paper across the counter. Kaveh hears the jingle of accessories as the stranger walks up beside him, the scratch of a pen as he scrawls his signature, and the scrape of a chair as they slide into a chair next to Kaveh.

“Kaveh.”

Kaveh frowns, glaring down into his wine glass. Even now he can hear his junior’s voice echoing around his head, the same exasperated tone he used to use when Kaveh would spend full nights awake, hunched over a table at the back of the House of Daena. The crease between his eyebrows deepens - the voice is surprisingly deep for Alhaitham. His cup is swiped from between his fingers, disappearing from his loose grasp. He reaches out for it and turns to be face to face with his junior - now twice the size, expression three times as unimpressed.

“Wha- Alhaitham?” Kaveh freezes in his seat. Under the scrutiny of his junior, Kaveh feels his cheeks heat up - he must look a mess. His words are slurred and his head throbs, he tries to run a hand through his blond locks and achieve a look of pure nonchalance that makes Alhaitham leave him alone, but his fingers get stuck on a knot and he slumps further into his chair, deflating pitifully.

“What are you doing here?” Kaveh can feel Alhaitham’s eyes burning holes into the side of his head as his fingers trace the wet ring left on the bar by his glass.

“I’m here to pick up an order.” Oh, his voice is deep. Kaveh shifts in his seat to disguise the shiver that runs up his spine. Feigning disinterest, Kaveh hums and rests his chin in his palm, watching Lambad mix a drink on the opposite counter.

“So you sat next to me. A very believable excuse.” He spares Alhaitham a glance from the corner of his eye. His expression is as neutral as ever - eyes probing and mouth flattened into a line. “You refused to step foot in here during our Akademiya days. What changed?”

“A lot. It’s been years, Kaveh.” Kaveh frowns, swallowing the bitter feeling that climbs up his throat. Alhaitham’s fingers drum against the bar rhythmically, his bare fingers making more of a dull noise than his gloved ones. “What about you? If I remember correctly, you used to hate wine.”

“So what? Like you said, it’s been years.” Kaveh mutters into his palm. Alhaitham hums beside him, sipping from Kaveh’s stolen glass. He never thought he’d see Alhaitham in the tavern, he always complained about how sticky the tabletops were and how he wouldn’t be able to bring a book with him, lest they get stained with unknown residue. In response, Kaveh would flick his forehead, making Alhaitham hunch over in pain while Kaveh lectured him about socialising with his peers. He did use to hate wine, but over the years the bottle has become one of his closest friends. Kaveh glares at Alhaitham from the corner of his eye. “Look, if you’re just here to scorn me, can you get it over with already? It might hurt your reputation to be seen with a homeless man, Mr. Scribe.”

Alhaitham’s eyes narrow as they lock onto Kaveh’s. Kaveh glares defiantly while Alhaitham’s eyes dart around like he’s searching Kaveh’s face for something. When he finds whatever he was looking for, his teal eyes soften and he finally speaks. “I would never do anything of the sort. You should know I don’t care for something as trivial as my reputation, Kaveh.”

Should he? Words from eight years ago sit on his tongue, and burn all the way down when he swallows them back. Kaveh doesn’t reply. He looks away from Alhaitham, shoulders hiking up to his ears as he curls into himself. Alhaitham doesn’t continue and their conversation fades into the ruckus around them.

He waves out to Lambad and the other man nods, sliding another glass of wine over the bar and into his waiting hand. Instead of throwing it back like he usually would, he sips at it. Alhaitham and Lambad start talking beside him, so he tunes them out and looks around the tavern. A mournful tone settles over the table to his left, one of the construction workers counting a handful of mora with a grim look on his face. The other table, previously filled to the brim with scholars, now sits a group of five. They’re all hunched over a book laying open, whispering among themselves.

He peeks over at Alhaitham from the corner of his eye, who sits tall on his barstool, fingers tapping against the side of Kaveh’s stolen wine glass. If Kaveh thinks back to when he and Alhaitham had last talked, he was half the size with a posture that reminded him of a shrimp. He would have that constant crease between his eyebrows, his arms would be crossed, and his expression impassive, but he would twirl his pen between his fingers in moments of distraction, and crack his knuckles after writing his over-detailed essays that made his professors cringe.

Sitting beside Alhaitham now, he feels dwarfed by his straight back and defined muscles. His hair is still as untamed as it was when they were students, but it looks purposeful and less like a bird's nest, and he’s grown into his features. He wears the same clunky hearing aids, Kaveh’s hands itch to build him something better. He lifts his glass to finish Kaveh’s stolen wine and Kaveh gulps at the size of his bicep. His outfit is impractical and tight, something a younger Alhaitham wouldn’t think about wearing, but with a sigh Kaveh resigns himself to reality. They’ve grown, matured, and changed, and Kaveh’s only just realised it now. He sucks in a sharp breath, staring down into the red abyss in his glass. “Have you seen the Palace of Alcazarzaray?”

“Of course I have. I followed its construction very closely.” Alhaitham says, folding his hands on the countertop and looking over at Kaveh. Kaveh frowns in disbelief, which Alhaitham’s lips twitch up at. “As a member of the Akademiya’s regulatory staff. Did you think I had a personal interest?”

“Whatever.” Kaveh scoffs. He takes a swig of his drink and places it back down with more force than necessary, making himself flinch. The noise of the tavern fills their silence again, a series of cheers from the second floor echoing through the building. Sighing sharply, Kaveh turns to face Alhaitham but keeps his eyes trained on his wringing hands in his lap. “It was my choice to continue construction after The Withering destroyed the Palace, I’m sure you already know that, but do you know how despondent it left me?

“It sucked me dry, Alhaitham. My mora, my house, my dignity. I have nothing left except for the clothes on my back. ” Kaveh feels tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He sniffles, swiping away a stray tear with his thumb. Alhaitham doesn’t say anything, so Kaveh continues. “Maman moved away to Fontaine several months ago so I’ve been staying in Gandharva VIlle, but Tighnari has his own family now with Cyno and their daughter. Not only did I lose all my material belongings, but I lost what I had left of my family. I have nothing left, do you understand now how pitiable I have become?”

Alhaitham doesn’t respond. Kaveh sighs, turning back to face the bar. “Nevermi-”

“I do not think you’re pitiable at all.” Alhaitham says, voice quiet yet strong. Kaveh glances over at him, eyes wide and glossy. “You are the Light of Kshahrewar, you built the Palace of Alcazarzaray despite the hardships that you were threatened with. Truthfully, it amazes me how you can accomplish so much and still remain a husk of guilt and sorrow. Be proud of your achievements, Kaveh.”

“Wh-what? I’m not sure I follow, what are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying,” Alhaitham takes a deep breath like it pains him to explain his words, “that you’re wrong.”

“Wh- wrong?! How dare you-”

“Let me finish.” Kaveh mouth clamps shut with a click. The only thing left from their student days is Alhaitham’s unending snark, but even then it’s taken a new shade - bold and unwavering, telling Kaveh what’s right and what’s wrong with a single raised eyebrow. Alhaitham turns to face Kaveh, clasping his hands together over his lap.

“You found something so important to you that the only way you could honour it is to finish its construction. You are in debt, yes? The Akademiya’s treasury records document it well.” Kaveh’s eyebrows furrow, his skin burns hotter than just his tipsy flush. “You gave up everything over something anyone else would’ve given up on; if I were someone else, I would say that your perseverance is admirable.”

Kaveh feels his cheeks flush, the heat spreading across his ears. “A-Admirable? Alhaitham, what are you-”

“You have been given the chance to heal. There is no longer an oppressive force pushing you down.” Alhaitham’s hands clench and unclench. Kaveh wonders if Alhaitham remembers the nights he had spent crying in Alhaitham’s dorm room as clearly as he does, and if it still means anything. “You can take the time you need with the family you have crafted with your own hands. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Kaveh sighs. “I do. Unfortunately.” He throws back the rest of his wine and fully swivels to face Alhaitham. Kaveh watches the way his eyebrows twitch in surprise, propping his elbow up on the lip of the bar. “You have to know that it’s not that easy though. I can’t just forget and forgive, no matter how easy you seem to find it. I do care, maybe a little bit too much. I can’t just change that.” Kaveh’s hand gestures in the air erratically, Lambad slides another glass over the counter towards him.

“I’m not asking you to.” Alhaitham says, taking the glass of wine before Kaveh can. He sips at it, nose scrunching slightly at the taste. Silence stretches between them. Alhaitham takes his time finishing his wine while Kaveh turns over his junior’s words in his head. He’s been talkative tonight, even when they were still best friends all those years ago, Alhaitham never talked this much in one sitting. Before Kaveh can ask him about it, Alhaitham speaks. “How has realising your ideals gone for you?”

“I am not going to admit you were right. You weren’t.” The way Alhaitham’s mouth quirks up makes his teeth grind together. Kaveh scowls at him and glances away. “That being said,” he takes a deep breath and meets Alhaitham’s gaze head-on, “my method was skewed. We have differing ideals and beliefs, I just… pursued mine in a suboptimal way.”

“Suboptimal. That’s one word for it.” is all he gets in return with a faint huff. A few moments pass before Alhaitham pipes up again. “So, what are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know.” Kaveh murmurs, shrinking into himself. He falters and looks away from the other man. Alhaitham’s eyes bore into his skull, Kaveh feels himself heat up under his intense scrutiny.

He hears a sigh and Alhaitham reaches out slowly, taking his hand. Kaveh feels his whole body tense up as Alhaitham gently pries his fingers open, the material of his gloves brushing uncomfortably against Kaveh’s skin. Kaveh will get an occasional pat on the back from clients, and Tighnari and Cyno often sling an arm over his shoulders or tap him casually to move him to the side. Alhaitham’s touch burns, his fingerprints branding Kaveh’s skin. He resists the urge to yank his arm away, to leave Alhaitham in the tavern and never talk to him ever again.

“Kaveh.” Alhaitham’s smooth voice startles him. Alhaitham keeps saying his name, and every time he does, it makes his heart bleed from the empty cavity in his chest. He opens his eyes, unaware that he’d closed them to begin with, and in his hand rests a bronze key. Where Alhaitham’s touch burns, the key is cold in his palm. Kaveh glances from the key to his junior, his features softening at Kaveh’s confusion. “Stay with me. Until you get back onto your feet, stay with me.”

Kaveh eyes him in disbelief. “Y-You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I’ll figure it out eventually, you don’t have to pity me.” Kaveh mutters, staring down at the key in his hand. Alhaitham’s eyes narrow and he squeezes Kaveh’s hand, making him flinch.

“I’m not pitying you, I’m returning what’s yours. It's always belonged to you.” A younger Kaveh would intertwine their fingers and pull Alhaitham closer. A younger Kaveh would laugh at Alhaitham’s breath tickling his neck. A younger Kaveh would push Alhaitham’s hair out of his eyes as an excuse to hold his face in his palms. They’ve grown older and grown apart, too used to their own independence. Just maybe though, Kaveh could learn to lean on another person, the only person that has known him better than he knows himself.

“Fine, but don’t expect us to become friends again. I’m moving out at the first chance I get.”

“Hm.” Alhaitham nods. He stands up, adjusting his cape and dusting off his pants. Alhaitham offers Kaveh his hand but he swats it away, standing up on his own and swaying slightly. The room spins a little bit, Kaveh has to hold onto the counter to steady himself. Alhaitham waits, meeting Kaveh’s glare with a look of indifference. Kaveh slowly walks forward, and then passes Alhaitham onto the city streets. He hears Alhaitham’s boots tap behind him, almost too close.

“Let’s go.” Kaveh doesn’t notice the hand hovering over the small of his back, not touching him but close enough that Kaveh doesn’t veer off into the bushes in his inebriated state, nor does he notice the small, soft smile on Alhaitham’s face.