Archive of Our Own

Alhaitham had only succumbed to alcohol once in his life.

He somewhat regularly partook in the occasional enjoyable drink of course, but to let himself become fully intoxicated was too careless a decision for his philosophy. Only those with weaker willpower and higher desire to drown out their sensations, like Kaveh, would mutilate their own bodies from the inside with ethanol.

But Alhaitham, contrary to public belief, was human. His willpower, too, faltered at times, when the logical algorithm that governed his mind stuttered amid a line of code and countered its own parameters by not outputting the value it ought to. Sometimes, he ignored his rationality in favour of recklessness — and usually regretted it not long after.

All this to say that he was drunk once, six years ago. The world had been oddly warm, and he was bubbling with unfamiliar dizziness, as if he was somewhat removed from his own self, nauseated in his stupor. The haze that clung to his eyes like clouded glass offered him a new perspective on the tavern, and similarly did the buzzing liquid within him offer a new perspective on his life.

Bitter as the firewater between his hands was, it was a perfect representation of his current day-to-day. He would put on his earpieces and play the same tracks in a predictable loop, then glance out of the window and study the street with attentive eyes: focus on the angle of a stranger's legs as they strolled, peruse from afar the baskets of stale fruit returning from the bazaar, read a scholar's lips as they droned on and on in uninteresting conversation with a colleague. The music in his ears would turn melancholic at times, and it seemed to fit the scene like a soundtrack from a Fontainian film.

Alhaitham had always been perceptive. He counted the amount of spoons in his kitchen drawer and noticed what books were being read by who in the House of Daena; but now the habit, which in theory awarded him more nuanced knowledge of the world, seemed to him an awfully drab affair. The scholars rarely ever mentioned anything intriguing on their walks home, and his drawer always contained the same amount of utensils. Predictability normally seemed comforting to him, desirable; but now that the alcohol tickling his nerve endings was muddling his thought process and misshaping it into a foreign rationale, he wished for an unpredictable variable to challenge his self-made algorithms.

Kaveh had been exactly that, he thought distantly, before taking another sour swig of his drink with a grimace.

Golden hair sprawled over his shoulders in untamable curls, Kaveh was inimitable in his singularity. No one could reproduce the brilliant connections his mind was capable of, crackling in blinding light as they sparked originality rather than regurgitate tried and true opinions everyone else seemed to easily ascribe to. His passionate rambles were laced with the kind of brightness Alhaitham's eyes always had to squint at in concentration, each time more enthralled by strokes of genius his own hands could never have created. Kaveh, with his light, was disconcerting.

Yet disconcerting in the same style as a novel in a foreign language with whose alphabet Alhaitham was not yet fully familiar — the incomprehensible lines were bound to make sense after a few months of diligent study.

But Kaveh was fated to perplex Alhaitham again and again, in each time more unimaginable ways. The obvious hypothesis that Alhaitham would one day be able to comprehend the workings of his mind, too, was proven to be refutable. Because he had disappeared from Alhaitham's life much like he had first appeared: in a flurry of bright passion and swishing golden hair. Loud as always, he had slammed the door of their shared home so forcefully that the frail wood had cracked.

Looking down at his empty cup, Alhaitham thought of that crack. He had felt the urge to run his fingers over the fissure too many times to count, but, irrationally, it seemed to him like that would ache like an open bruise on his own skin. Now, too intoxicated to avoid thinking of such matters, he wondered why he had never gotten the door replaced.

Lambad had yelled something at him over the lively "music" pounding against his ears, but he had not understood. It was probably something along the lines of go home, but what would be waiting for him at home? No one.

Since Kaveh had left, tears streaming down his face with sorrow so palpable that Alhaitham had instinctively understood the concept of 'heartbreak,' the world was simply a world — mundane. There was no blinding light to challenge his understanding of optics and no brilliant counterargument to his own philosophy. His academic discussions were rendered uninteresting by scholars who only seemed to listen to him with half a ear, as if they had already decided to refuse his ideas before he had even voiced them.

Kaveh had always read between the lines of his statements, pressing between his words to search for their implications and demanding footnotes that further elucidated in minute detail the meaning of every opinion Alhaitham expressed. If he did not understand, he asked Alhaitham to repeat, again and again until he had unravelled every thread of his thought process to follow with narrowed eyes, to criticise in order to test his understanding, to add nuance to his own beliefs. Kaveh listened to Alhaitham as if enraptured, regardless of how often they disagreed.

Others seemed to skim through Alhaitham's ideas, uninterested and bothered by how they seemed to pose a threat to their own beliefs.

He attempted, really, to find a single other mind out there functioning in similar ways to Kaveh's; when that proved useless, he simplified his aim to simply search for someone who listened just as diligently.

How simple it had seemed indeed, yet that had been another illusion.

Though Alhaitham's heart insisted, through its irregular palpitations when his peripheral vision caught a blur of golden hair, that no one could ever compare to Kaveh, his mind easily concluded that such uniqueness could not be possible. Surely someone in Sumeru City could offer him the same depth of companionship as he had so easily found in his friendship with his senior — all he had to do was find such a person.

After a useless procession of social interactions providing him with nothing but fatigue, his mind almost concluded that his heart had been correct in this particular instance.

The few scholars who did lend him a careful ear did not provide him with insights half as intriguing as Kaveh had, while the ones intelligent enough to form original thoughts were too arrogant to accept that Alhaitham's reasoning could be more nuanced than theirs. Outside of the Akademiya, the occasional stranger at Puspa Cafe was capable of gripping him with their conversation for a few minutes, but their eyes inevitably started to slide down to the firm muscle of his biceps, distracting them from the interaction.

In other terms, Alhaitham realised that the companionship he had shared with Kaveh was much rarer than it had seemed at the time.

When he strolled through Treasures Street — on his own — on his way to work, dozens of couples would pass him by, absorbed in their own impenetrable bubble whose transparent walls seemed to protect them from the bothersome inconveniences of the world. Unlike them, Alhaitham had no barrier to foul smells, loud sounds, or unexpected emergencies, and an unfamiliar sensation started to tighten the muscle of his chest whenever he saw one such stranger smiling at another with softened eyes.

In the tavern, having poured himself more firewater, Alhaitham glanced around. In a dark corner, a woman was pressing another onto the wall, lips pasisonately devouring her face as her hands tried to become acquainted with as much skin of possible. On his left, a man laughed loudly at whatever entertaining story someone else was telling, evidently much more amused than the situation called for.

And Alhaitham, as always, was alone. It had been seven months since Kaveh had cracked their front door and with it Alhaitham's heart, but his absence still seemed to be everywhere.

He had already given up on finding someone whose conversation was as interesting as Kaveh's, remarking that perhaps, the issue was his own. Perhaps no one wanted to peek into his mind because he was not a knowable person, and because his personality did not lend itself well to friendship. Always blunt, unsociable and distant, it was no wonder that most of his classmates naturally avoided his company when they could.

Even Kaveh, with his heart of gold, did not have the patience to stay by his side. Even Kaveh, with his tragic kindness, regretted befriending him.

It was a logical conclusion, and Alhaitham was keen on logic. As people's words proved time and time again that they did not want to be in his presence, an uncomfortable sensation started to crawl into his ears much like a beetle, finicky legs leaving behind an itch he was incapable of relieving. This itch would slide down into his chest then scratch at his heart, as if the insect had decided to make himself a home in the most vulnerable tissue of Alhaitham's body.

Disturbed by the sensation, Alhaitham had blocked his ears and subsequently closed his mouth.

He engaged only in conversation that was unavoidable, and spoke only when required. His voice would not be wasted on unwilling listeners.

His vocabulary was stifled now that he had no one to test its limits with, his voice was muffled by choice, and the nuance of his more complex reflections had been smothered by the fact that there was no one he trusted to understand it. No one's eyes swallowed him with as much engrossment as Kaveh's had.

And yet, it seemed that the discomfort in his heart refused to leave regardless, no matter how often he reminded himself that there would never be anyone else like Kaveh. And really, there might never be anyone else at all, because Alhaitham's personality did not lend itself well to being loved.

But much like his scent in the house, Kaveh lingered. Even then, in that crowded tavern with poor illumination, fragments of him were present all around, like shards once belonging to a now shattered mirror. Alhaitham, disoriented by the alcohol numbing his veins, thought he heard a loud bout of laughter that could only belong to one person, and the sound reverberated in his ears.

With it, a paralysing sort of sorrow snaked into him through his ears, and he retched at the sensation. The nausea that had seemed bearable just a few moments ago now took hold of his throat, and his gut stirred with unease. Standing up in an instant, he rushed to the bathroom.

But that had been six years ago.

Now, Alhaitham sat in the same tavern — perhaps on the same table — stirring a drink Kaveh had gotten for him.

It was a celebratory outing, though he couldn't quite recall what they were celebrating now. All he knew was that he had accidentally drank a little too much, just enough to reach the edge of tipsy, and then Kaveh had offered him a shot of firewater with glittering red eyes, and he had been too weak to refuse when Kaveh was asking like that.

Now, his mind was wandering back to a time of his life he hadn't given much thought to in quite a while. It was odd that he remembered that evening six years ago so vivdly when it should have been too inconsequential for his mind to hold onto.

"More?" Kaveh asked with a giggle, offering him a cup filled with… something. He looked dazzling under the tavern's dim lighting, tangled hair resisting its red clips and curling at the ends near his shoulders. Alhaitham wanted to look at him forever.

He hummed, nodding a moment too late.

"What's gotten into you today?" Kaveh asked, slurring his words. "Not that I'm—" hiccup — "complaining."

Alhaitham hummed again, following Kaveh's hands as they reached for a cup. He wondered if the alcohol could afford him enough recklessness to voice what he kept buried deep under his ribs.

Approximately two hours later, Lambad turned on the tavern's offuscating lights and clapped loudly, forcing a groan out of Kaveh. The sun was rising outside, but he didn't want the night to end quite yet.

Although, his limbs were already aching with exhaustion after so many hours in the lively company of just about everyone in Sumeru. Even Hat Guy had joined their table, dragged over by Sethos with a scowl.

The most intriguing event of the night, however, had certainly been Alhaitham's unexpected decision to drown in shitty alcohol.

Said man was currently resting his face on Kaveh's lap, lying on two consecutive chairs and somehow napping despite the ruckus bustling around them.

When he had first gotten into the position, Kaveh's cheeks had erupted with such brazen red that Sethos had laughed to the point of tears, but he hadn't dared move an inch. The warmth of Alhaitham's skin was delicious as it seeped through his clothes, and he looked nothing short of adorable like this, features softened by easy sleep.

His cheeks were flushed a pretty pink of the sort he used to wear all the time when he was still a junior looking up at Kaveh with curious eyes. The colour suited him in an interesting way, as if Kaveh had stepped several years into the past and met the schoolboy who used to be comfortable with his touch, before this shared warmth of theirs had dissipated.

"Alhaitham," he murmured softly, leaning down. "We're going home."

Squinting, Alhaitham blinked up at him, eyes scrutinising his face.

Thankfully, Kaveh was practically sober. Tighnari had astutely pointed out that a drunk Alhaitham was the sort of sight he shouldn't allow himself to forget, and so he'd held down his liquor at the end of the night. At the moment, his head felt slightly woozy and his throat was a little dry, but other than that he felt well enough.

"The tavern's closing," he explained, voice a little louder. "Come on."

Blinking, Alhaitham let himself be pushed away by Kaveh's hand, though he had to hold onto the tabletop to keep himself upright on his seat.

Sethos crossed his arms at the sight, grinning in amusement. "Sleep well, lover boy?"

"Yes," Alhaitham replied easily, punctuating the word with a yawn. "Comfortable."

Dehya burst into laughter, though it was cut short by Lambad passing by their table with a glare.

"Get up, idiot," Kaveh mumbled, pulling on Alhaitham's hand. He was impossibly warm to the touch, even through the glove, and said warmth made its way to Kaveh's face.

"Not an idiot," Alhaitham muttered, though he complied regardless. Once he was standing, he mushed his face onto Kaveh's shoulder without ceremony.

A kamera shot sounded somewhere, and Kaveh cursed while asking himself who the fuck had brought a fucking kamera here just to document his humiliation. He hoped Alhaitham, once sober, would not pay too much attention to the lovesick blush betraying Kaveh's face in the photograph.

"You're heavy," he muttered, even though his gut seemed to be melting from the delicious warmth the contact brought with it. He wanted to linger in that position, to recall afterwards how it felt to have Alhaitham's breath in the crook of his neck.

"I always carry you home when you're drunk," Alhaitham retorted in a defensive tone, and his voice was oddly clear. "Why don't you do the same?"

"Why don't you do the same?" Tighnari asked, barely containing a smile.

Cyno, the traitor, nodded along with a blank expression. "It seems only fair."

"You— You can walk perfectly fine on your own!" Kaveh spluttered, exasperated.

"I don't want to," Alhaitham whined.

Yes, whined. Such a vocal feat had never occured in Alhaitham's usually restrained throat, and several jaws dropped in response.

"Just— come on," Kaveh muttered, clearing his throat as he pulled on Alhaitham's wrist. "You can sleep at home."

After a few mumbled goodbyes and extremely amused glances from their friends, Kaveh managed to drag the infuriatingly heavy Scribe into the street. Refusing to untangle himself from Kaveh's skin, Alhaitham simply staggered forwards in the unfamiliar position he had chosen.

"Pretty," he mumbled.

Kaveh glanced sideways to find what Alhaitham was referring to, and hummed in agreement at the sight of the morning sun peeking through a crack in the clouds over the horizon. It was odd to think that Alhaitham, in the privacy of his mind, also appreciated this sort of beauty.

"Yes," Kaveh agreed, feeling the edges of his lips curl. "I never thought you'd get drunk. But I guess there's a first time for everything."

"Not my first time."

Kaveh arched an eyebrow. "You never told me."

"We weren't… talking at the time."

Ah. The warmth of their touch felt less gratifying as Kaveh was reminded of a certain evening so many years ago, when he'd fiercely ripped a page that meant much more than just paper. He supposed there would be things he would never know about Alhaitham, considering they'd spent years looking away from one another.

"Well, then you're acquainted with the joys of alcohol," Kaveh exclaimed, forcing a chuckle out of his mouth.

"Joys?" Alhaitham deadpanned, making an adorable sound of discontent. "It was shit the first time. This time it's okay, because you're here."

The words found their way to Kaveh's heart like hands, slithering in uninvited and squeezing his poor beating flesh. Unknowingly and unwillingly, Alhaitham had always seemed to keep that particular part of him hostage.

"I'm… glad to be here, then," he replied quietly.

"Mm. Me too."

Thankfully, they were almost halfway home already, which meant Kaveh's heart would potentially be able to hold still without exploding into warmth in front of Alhaitham. All he had to do was remain quiet so as to not steer the conversation towards something that would trigger his excitable affection.

"I was sad," Alhaitham confessed.

Instinctively, Kaveh's legs stilled in the middle of the sidewalk. He turned to face Alhaitham with a frown, only to find those usually blank eyes laced with a terrifying vulnerability, softened by the alcohol and dilated by the gentle morning sunshine. His features were still flushed, and the rebellious strand of hair that always stuck out of his head at the top had been flattened by his easy sleep in the safety of Kaveh's lap.

"Oh," Kaveh let out dumbly, tongue attempting to form a more appropriate response. Alhaitham had never said anything of the sort to him, and the unfamiliarity was disconcerting. "About what?"

"When you left," Alhaitham mumbled in response, and his eyes shied away with a hint of sorrow. "When you screamed at me that time, then… slammed the door. And didn't come back."

Now, the aching squeeze around Kaveh's heart seemed to bruise him, allowing guilt to permeate the tissue and increase the unease pulsing within. Under this soft light, looking so uncharacteristically vulnerable, Alhaitham did not seem like the ex-Acting Grand Sage of the Nation of Wisdom, nor like the finicky roommate who scrutinised Kaveh's every habit — he was the spitting image of his younger self, looking up at Kaveh with curious eyes framed by long eyelashes.

"I'll never leave like that again," Kaveh promised before he could think his words through, eyes distorted in concern. Unable to resist the urge, he pinched Alhaitham's cheek. "Your senior's right here."

Against all expectations, rather than pull away with a disgruntled frown, Alhaitham leaned into Kaveh's fingers as if it were the most natural reaction in the world.

Staring forwards with blinking eyes, Kaveh tried not to erupt in a blush.

"I had no one to talk to," Alhaitham muttered. "Everyone else was an idiot. No one was like you."

Oh. In another scenario, Kaveh would have been irritated by the immature jab at the general population's intellect, but such a sensation was unthinkable when his flustered heart was stuttering in response to Alhaitham's worded affection. When was the last time he had praised Kaveh so easily, so needlessly, so… personally?

"Flattery doesn't look good on you," Kaveh replied nervously, scratching the nape of his neck. "Now is not the time to tease me."

Huffing, Alhaitham looked away with an eye roll. The movement seemed to disorient him, because he stumbled slightly before catching onto Kaveh's shoulder for support. His fingertips seemed to burn even through the fabric.

"You always assume the worst of me," Alhaitham said bitterly with a clenched jaw. "Haven't I proven myself enough in these last few years?"

Guilt constricted Kaveh's vocal cords as he tried to think of a response that would be neither too honest nor too insensitive. But Alhaitham, whose tongue seemed to have been loosened by the alcohol in his system, opened his mouth before he could react.

"I subscribed to the Kshahrewar newsletter when you graduated. I read— every article you published, and… I educated myself on the topic if the complexity was too out of reach for my understanding." Alhaitham's words were slurred, but his gaze was penetrating in its intensity. "I visited the Palace of Alcazarzaray the day after you finished construction, and I listened to every— to every whisper of gossip about you. As if it was my place to keep up with your life."

Kaveh's lips parted at the unexpected confession, mind rendered blank by the words. In their years apart, he had convinced himself that Alhaitham thought of him as nothing but a faded, regretted memory — but that seemed to be the opposite of the truth. The idea that Alhaitham had missed him, perhaps just as much as he had missed Alhaitham, seemed… foreign. Heartbreaking. But also… relieving.

"There's no one like you," Alhaitham said simply.

And there was no one like Alhaitham either, no one who could render Kaveh's passionate mouth speechless with just a handful of words. He looked utterly beautiful like this, painted in soft brushtrokes by the sunrise illuminating them, flushed by the drunkenness, looking on as he always had — as if he were trying to dissect Kaveh's entire self. The sight made Kaveh's heart throb at a desperate pace.

And really, Kaveh didn't know what to say, because any word that came out of his mouth would break this moment they were sharing, because that was just who he was — he was prone to breaking beautiful things. The moment embraced them like a dome of fragile tinted glass, protecting them from the other passersby returning from their own late-night festivities, and nothing could have ripped Kaveh's gaze away from Alhaitham's.

"You talk about moving out too much," Alhaitham added, looking up in thought. His body was slumping sideways in an odd angle, and it reminded Kaveh that he was supposed to be taking his intoxicated roommate home, not standing still in the smack center of the street like an enamoured fool. "I don't want you to move out."

"What?" Kaveh whispered. He searched for hints of sarcasm in Alhaitham's features, but there were none. If anything, he looked much more honest than usual. "You're always complaining about my noise and my nagging and my… my everything."

Alhaitham laughed, wholeheartedly and indulgently, and the unexpected reaction made Kaveh's eyes widen. When had he ever laughed quite like that?

"You broke my heart when you moved out the last time," Alhaitham murmured, resting his chin back on Kaveh's shoulder. "What makes you think I'd want that to happen again?"

In the distance, the smell of alcohol being poured on the pavement swirled sourly through the air and cheap glass shattered as it collapsed, but Kaveh did not register either occurrence. His mind was too engrossed in Alhaitham's admission and Alhaitham's wording — broke my heart — to think of anything but.

Love, Kaveh had long learned, was fickle. It did not linger. And so, when Alhaitham had spat blunt venom at him over their research project, eyes hardened by impatience, Kaveh had concluded the obvious — his affection had run out. Perhaps Kaveh's personality simply did not lend itself well to lasting connections; perhaps he did not lend himself well to being loved.

The image of Alhaitham as 'heartbroken' seemed… unimaginable. Stressed, yes; upset, naturally; sad, sure; but heartbroken? The word was too charged. It implied that his care for Kaveh had been of the kind Kaveh didn't think he could ever evoke in anyone, much less in a man so placid and pragmatic.

Perhaps his muddled, intoxicated brain was simply employing the wrong term. It sounded like an excuse, even to Kaveh, because this was Alhaitham, and Alhaitham was infuritaingly precise when it came to connotation.

But he could not possibly have been 'heartbroken' by Kaveh of all people.

Alhaitham's heart seemed to be made of an entirely different tissue to Kaveh's. Any detail, any prickle of emotion managed to find its way to the fragile organ Kaveh's ribcage made such poor work of protecting. While any word laced with just a sliver of discontent managed to slither into Kaveh's ears and find its way to his already so battered heart, scratching at its bleeding surface, tightening the clench of his muscle, Alhaitham seemed immune to such onslaughts. His custom-made earpieces protected his ears, preventing any potential bruises, and that was simply who he was; he was not inconvenienced by what he called Kaveh's 'sentimentality.'

And so, Alhaitham's heart could never be broken. And if this assumption was proven to be false, it would certainly not be by the inevitable occasion of falling out with someone as flawed as Kaveh.

But then again, Kaveh was likely overthinking and over-romanticising a simple phrase Alhaitham was muttering out while drunk. His mind was prone to whirring with useless crackling connections and considerations that others didn't seem to entertain; they were governed by usual logic, while he— Well, that was precisely what Alhaitham seemed to dislike about him, no?

"Let's go home," he uttered at last, forcing his gaze away from Alhaitham's. "You need to drink more water."

Though Alhaitham complied, following Kaveh's footsteps with his own staggered ones, it was with a pensive glitter in his eyes that unfortunately implied he had not dropped the subject. When they finally arrived at their doorstep, Kaveh sighed in relief while fishing out his key.

"How the roles have inverted," Alhaitham murmured as he leaned against the doorframe. It had a long crack along the bottom that Kaveh had been meaning to get rid of ever since he had moved in; he made a mental note to ensure it was fixed by the end of the month.

"Don't make this into a habit," Kaveh grumbled, dragging him inside. "I'm coming to realise I owe you a lot more credit for taking care of me on nights like these."

"Mm." Alhaitham's lips curled into an almost-smile. "I like taking care of you."

And that string of words seemed to stab Kaveh's poor heart with a blade made of delicious warmth and velveted edges, but it left a bruise nonetheless. The kind he would likely run his fingers over on many late nights.

"You— Don't be—" he spluttered, turning around as he threw his shoes to the side. "What's gotten into you?"

"Alcohol."

Kaveh shot him a glare before pulling his arm with a sigh. "Go brush your teeth. I'll bring you some water."

As he made his way to the kitchen, leaving Alhaitham to hopefully be able to clean his mouth on his own, Kaveh brought his hands to his cheeks. They were scorching hot, and he groaned in humiliation. He begged to the Dendro Archon that Alhaitham would be the kind to lose his memories after a night out.

He drank a full glass of water himself, willing the fresh liquid to ease the palpitations wrecking havoc in his chest, but it seemed to have little effect.

Once he was back in the bathroom however, Alhaitham was nowhere to be found.

"In here," an amused voice called.

Cursing under his breath, Kaveh found his roommate lying on a bed that did not belong to him.

"I can't believe you're dirtying my sheets," he muttered. "Get out of those clothes."

Humming, Alhaitham stretched his arms out languidly like a cat.

Kaveh sighed. "It's almost six in the morning. I would like to go to sleep as quickly as possible."

Alhaitham simply frowned in response.

"You're impossible," Kaveh exclaimed, reaching forwards to untie the sash around Alhaitham's waist.

His complaints were half-hearted however, because he was perfectly aware of how many times Alhaitham had undressed him in similar occasions. Really, it was rare for Kaveh to be so inebriated he couldn't find it in himself to change into his night clothes, but the sight of Alhaitham's nimble fingers making quick work of his clothes with practiced ease, even the trickier trinkets that dangled from his outfit, always made his intoxicated self giggle. It was domestic in a way that almost made him believe the intimacy between them was deeper than that of ex-friends sharing a house.

"So complicated," he mumbled, trying to undo the clasp on Alhaitham's cape.

Alhaitham did not seem to hear him, because his eyes were now roaming over the myriad of carefully curated pillows decorating Kaveh's bed.

"What are you thinking about?" Kaveh murmured, unable to hold back his curiosity.

"How much I missed you," Alhaitham replied easily.

Fuck. Kaveh's hands faltered where they had been pulling on Alhaitham's glove, forgetting their movement halfway through as his mind, too, forgot to conceal his fluster.

"Did you miss me too?" Alhaitham whispered.

He looked nothing short of ethereal under the flimsy light peeking in through the half-drawn curtains, focused on Kaveh with teal-amber eyes, glove half-removed over his forearm, face still flushed a pretty pink. His lips held the question that was currently wrapping itself around Kaveh's heart and consuming it whole.

"After you left," Alhaitham clarified, before a hiccup. "Did you grieve my absence? Did you… wish I was with you, sometimes? Or was I" — he pursed his lips — "easy to replace?"

"What do you think, idiot?" Kaveh murmured, swallowing as he tried to focus on the gloves once more. "Nothing about you is easy."

The concept of replacing Alhaitham was so unthinkable that Kaveh might have laughed if he wasn't so jittery.

Humming, Alhaitham looked up at him through narrowed eyes. He then sat up, stretching his arm forwards to facilitate Kaveh's movements.

Or so Kaveh thought. Alhaitham, who couldn't afford to be helpful for a moment in his insufferable life, seemed to have other aims as his fingers started brushing against Kaveh's cheekbones, lightly and slowly, tracing the angles of his features with focused intent. It forced Kaveh's breath to hitch, and his lips parted.

"Say you missed me,” Alhaitham murmured. "Say you regretted leaving. Say you'll never move out."

Kaveh felt his eyes widen.

"I've seen you kiss strangers at the tavern," Alhaitham muttered, as if there was something bitter on his tongue. "Some of them hideous, in fact."

Kaveh wanted to retort, but his senses were overwhelmed by Alhaitham's hand, Alhaitham's voice, Alhaitham's gaze. What did this imply?

"I've always wondered what it feels like," Alhaitham added, and perhaps Kaveh's mind was conjuring hallucinations — it had to be — but his eyes lowered to catch on Kaveh's lips. "Though… I've only ever wanted to try with you."

And then Alhaitham's face was leaning forwards, his irises bedazzled in wonder, and his hand was cradling Kaveh's cheek, and he was about to kiss him.

For one delicious, beautiful moment, Kaveh was incandescently happy. But the context they were in quickly caught up to his naive, foolish mind, and he brought a hand up to gently cover the lips he had fantasised about so many times, right as they were about to softly press against his.

"Alhaitham," he whispered.

Alhaitham did not, for once, fight back. He let his arm fall limply to the side, and then his eyes started to turn glassy.

"Hey," Kaveh called nervously, chest suffocated with guilt as he watched Alhaitham turn around in evident embarrassment. "Don't cry."

What a useless command. There were already tears wetting Alhaitham's cheeks by the time Kaveh managed to peek at his face once more, and the sight crushed his heart with its unfamiliarity.

"Don't cry," he repeated, more so to himself this time. How badly had he fucked up in order to make Alhaitham tear up? "You're just drunk, Haitham. I can't kiss you anyway."

His words had no effect on the sniffling mess in front of him, who looked ten years younger from this angle. With a throbbing heart, he pressed a sweet kiss to Alhaitham's cheek. "There we go. That's how it feels."

Alhaitham looked at him in disbelief before glancing away.

"Alhaitham," he murmured, tugging on his collar to force him to meet his eyes. "You're drunk. You're not thinking straight. Let's just sleep it off."

"Can you forget about this?" Alhaitham asked while evading his touch. "Forget about all of this."

Kaveh cocked his head. He hoped his expression didn't betray how utterly bewildered and foolishly hopeful he felt in that moment, mind buzzing with the reminder that Alhaitham had almost kissed him. "Forget what? You have nothing to be embarrassed about. It's just the alcohol."

"You're bizarrely dense for a man so intelligent," Alhaitham spat. Wiping away a tear, he sniffled. "There's much more than just alcohol involved here."

Kaveh sighed. "I know our relationship is… a bit of a mixed bag. Let's not get into it right now."

"Mixed bag?" Alhaitham scoffed. "That's your response to finding out I'm in love with you?"

Utter silence. The words, strung in an order Kaveh could never have conceived would be formed by Alhaitham's mouth, slid in through his ears and travelled down to cradle his feverish heart.

I'm in love with you. With you.

"You're not…" Kaveh breathed, still in the midst of processing the outburst.

"That's not for you to determine," Alhaitham whispered back.

Slowly, as if noticing Kaveh's stupor even through his own drunken haze, Alhaitham leaned closer to him, then rested two gentle, disoriented hands on Kaveh's shoulders.

"I don't even remember what it's like to not love you."

A long, stretched, unending moment passed, and Kaveh's head was consumed by nothing but the desperate pulsing of his excited heart. Alhaitham was drunk. Alhaitham was telling the truth. Alhaitham was not in his right mind. Alhaitham would never say this without meaning it. Alhaitham was confused. Alhaitham was in love with him.

And then, with an unceremonious plop, Alhaitham collapsed back onto the pillows with closed eyes.

"I'm sleepy," he murmured simply, before leaving Kaveh alone to deal with the implications of his slurred confession and the beginnings of a headache.

When Alhaitham blearily blinked his heavy eyelids open almost ten hours later, he was met with the sight of Kaveh staring at him with deep eyebags.

His memories trickled into his mind one by one, through a blurry lens but present nonetheless. A lump formed in his already nauseated throat.

"Did you sleep at all?"

Kaveh slowly shook his head. "Did you mean what you said?"

Alhaitham wanted to throw up, be it from the hangover or the situation. He massaged his eyes.

"You're welcome to ignore my words if that will make things less awkward."

"Alhaitham," Kaveh said sternly, but there was a different edge to his voice. "Look at me."

Alhaitham swallowed before complying. He should deal with the consequences of his own foolishness in the end, even if it broke his heart once more, even if it meant having to upkeep a blank face as Kaveh rejected the affection he had kept so preciously protected within his chest for so many years.

But Kaveh's eyes did not hold pity, nor irritation. They confused Alhaitham once more, as usual, with something he had never seen before.

"I missed you so badly," Kaveh confessed, his voice only a quivering thread that anyone with less sensitive ears would have missed. "I regretted leaving all the time. I don't want to move out."

Alhaitham felt his breath hitch in response, mind whirring to try and analyse every possible implication of those words. Out of every reponse Kaveh could have given, this was not the one he had expected.

Gently, reverently, hesitantly, Kaveh's reached out to cradle Alhaitham's cheek. He inhaled deeply before speaking. "Do you want to… try?"

A soft smile climbing onto his lips as he pressed his hand over Kaveh's, Alhaitham felt his nausea dissipate into giddy relief. He almost wondered if he was still inebriated, or if he was still in the haze of a dream. "Of course I do."

Kaveh leaned in carefully, until their foreheads were pressed together and their eyelashes mingled with each other. Letting out a heavy sigh, Kaveh finally let his shoulders sag in relief.

"Can we stay in bed a little longer?" he murmured, shuffling into Alhaitham's warmth. "I'd like to sleep here."

"Of course," Alhaitham repeated dumbly, raising two hesitant hands to touch Kaveh's hair. It was soft like he imagined, and he could smell the shampoo they shared from this short distance. "I'll hold you if you like."