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Alhaitham is so. Fucked.
He’s messed up everything. Kaveh’s gone and cut him off, and even if it’s dramatic, Alhaitham can’t blame him. He shouldn’t have let their bickering get out of hand. He shouldn’t have yelled back, even if he was right. He should have stopped that archon-damned argument before it got out of hand- before Kaveh yelled that they’re done working together, flipped him off, and stomped out of the House of Daena.
He should have gone after him. He should have run for Kaveh and… done something.
Because Kaveh’s gone. And Alhaitham knows that Kaveh could go across Teyvat, could stomp him into the curb, could get married to another, and Alhaitham would still need him.
Alhaitham would also never let Kaveh see that no matter what, Alhaitham needs him. Because he was right, after all, and it’s not his fault Kaveh was too proud to accept defeat.
It’s not Alhaitham’s fault he was too proud to accept defeat.
It can’t be. Not when there’s no way Kaveh loved him, even if Alhaitham thought once that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he had even a sliver of reciprocation.
Gods, Alhaitham needs Kaveh. He’s vaguely aware it must seem almost parasocial to anyone paying attention. He anonymously answers Kaveh’s philosophical writings in academic journals and on billboards around the city. He eavesdrops on any mention of Kshahrewar or architecture without even meaning to. He stupidly, illogically, keeps tabs on Kaveh in any way he can, all just to fulfill this… need.
It’s not desire, per se. Alhaitham’s mostly ruled that out as a less likely option. It’s more that no matter how he looks at it, in all the possibilities Alhaitham has ever been able to see, he could never not need to be right at Kaveh’s side.
And so what if he just so happens to be at the same tavern as Kaveh, keeping an eye on him as he wastes away? So what if he stares for just a little too long at the letter from Kaveh, saying he doesn’t need the house that Alhaitham made sure was still owned fifty-fifty, that he moved into for some unimaginably unlikely chance that Kaveh might want it as well?
So what if he pretends to look down upon the newly-fallen Light of Kshahrewar, while he’s been slowly breaking down inside for years without him?
Alhaitham knows that he’s been ridiculous about this. He knows that even if Kaveh ever loved him, he certainly doesn’t anymore, and probably hasn’t for quite some time. He knows it’s absurd to feel bad about an empty hallway in a house that shouldn’t be only his, to spend hours reading books just to leave notes for one other to find, to keep an eye out on the walk home for a head of blonde hair he knows he’ll never see.
It’s silly, how heavy his keys suddenly feel when he sees him for the first time in months, drinking himself into a stupor with money he can’t possibly have.
It’s silly how easy it is to sit across from that blonde drunk with the braids in his hair and slide that same set of housekeys over the sticky table.
Alhaitham dismisses how excited he is to see those reddish eyes up-close for the first time in years, no matter how bleary they are.
It feels right to pull Kaveh into his side, even if it’s accented by the smell of wine and sweat.
It’s never felt more right to wake up and know that the house- their house- isn’t empty anymore, that it’s Kaveh’s mess left on the table and the couch and the kitchen.
Alhaitham doesn’t stop keeping tabs on him. It’s become even easier, now that both sets of keys are in use and there’s more than one pair of shoes at the door. He’s still at Kaveh’s side, even if from a distance, because where else would he be?
It takes a while for Alhaitham to even consider that Kaveh might need him too. Even then, he dismisses it almost immediately. Kaveh can’t possibly feel anything but contempt for him. Why else would he insist on redecorating their home, on buying coffee beans that Kaveh likes and Alhaitham is only partial to, on refusing to leave the house at the same time as Alhaitham even though everyone around them surely knows of their situation anyway?
And of course Alhaitham notices the first time that Kaveh brings home takeout in two separate containers. Of course he notices the first time Kaveh actually sleeps through the whole night without being drunk or having stayed up for two days straight.
He still takes Kaveh’s keys and complains about the mess. Alhaitham’s always liked annoying Kaveh. He does his best to keep it at somewhat of a minimum; he hears all the sleepless nights and watches as Kaveh’s hair gets messier and messier.
Alhaitham never asks Kaveh for rent. Not even once. Kaveh seems insistent on paying it, even when he misses it one month and only pays half of his usual the next. Alhaitham considers the possibility of Kaveh trying to prove himself somehow. If that is the case, he thinks it’s silly; Kaveh must have realized a thousand times by now just how far Alhaitham is willing to go to even be near him.
He’s long decided that if this is as far as their relationship goes, just two bickering housemates, Alhaitham is okay. He’s still in love. He only came to terms with that just after Kaveh moved in, when he realized that just living with him didn’t quite quell the craving seated deep between his ribs. But the worst of that need for Kaveh is tamed by being near him, by bickering with him, by getting to see him in the quiet of dawn and the vibrant colors of sunset.
As he has a habit to do, he nearly ruins it all over again. After having just enough books thrown at him to put him on edge, Alhaitham lashes out, and the fear in his gut is deeper than anything he’s ever felt as he watches Kaveh head to the door just like all those years ago.
Somehow, unlike in the House of Daena, absolute terror of losing Kaveh again gets Alhaitham’s voice to work just enough to call out, and whatever shows in his face seems to make Kaveh soften. He really doesn’t believe in the archons, but he thanks them now, along with whatever other deities may exist, as Kaveh takes his hand off the doorknob and turns around. A tear slips down his face, and all Alhaitham can do is watch as Kaveh stands in front of him, crying and yelling at him.
Kaveh doesn’t hear Alhaitham the first time he brings himself to say I’m sorry to him since their Akademiya days.
Alhaitham hears Kaveh still crying half an hour later. He yearns to go and stop the tears somehow, because that’s all he ever does. He yearns and yearns and yearns, but never actually does anything; when he actually fixes something between them, it’s by some unexplained force of will that overcomes him.
He hadn’t expected that will to reach him that night, as he stands outside Kaveh’s closed door and actually apologizes, properly apologizes, for the first time in his life. He’s not sure he’ll ever be humble enough to do this again.
And even after Kaveh yells at him to go away, Alhaitham clears the bottles away from his bed and pulls his blanket over his sleeping form.
Kaveh doesn’t hear the first time he ever says I love you.
Instead, Kaveh hears his admonitions of his shopping habits, the messes he leaves, his poor choice of home decor. In truth, Alhaitham couldn’t care less about these things. It’s illogical to complain about things that don’t matter to him, but he does it anyway. It takes many months of introspection to realize that it may be because he doesn’t want Kaveh around, and that puzzles him. How could he not want Kaveh around, when he needs him so badly?
Despite his inner turmoil and outer display of numbed annoyance, Alhaitham still finds himself buying takeout for two, bringing home Kaveh’s favorite trashy books from the House of Daena, walking Kaveh home from the bar and washing the makeup off of his face, and going out of his way to be there when Kaveh, and only Kaveh, might need him. He can’t help but think of Kaveh when he’s offered random trinkets, and more than a few times, he’s found himself buying them just to leave on Kaveh’s desk.
He can’t help that just about everything he does outside of work is for Kaveh. Even when the Traveler comes around asking for or offering something, he keeps his schedule tight, as though he had some actual reason to be home for dinner other than just wanting to be around Kaveh. Alhaitham can’t imagine any other way; perhaps it is just his nature.
Alhaitham has even begun to privately consider Kaveh’s ideas of beauty. He still finds them absurd, but Kaveh himself seems to support his theories, and Alhaitham wonders if he even realizes that.
Alhaitham still, foolishly, allows some tiny part of himself to wonder if he has any chance of reciprocation. He often finds that the answer to that is no. After all, he has been nothing but terrible to Kaveh, so why should he be loved?
Still, he will keep on saying cruel words in hopes of protecting Kaveh from himself while being unable to stop building habits around him. He knows he’ll wait for the day when he stops loving Kaveh, and he knows that day will never come.
Because every possibility, every probability, no matter how unlikely, results in him still loving Kaveh.
He hasn’t even considered trying to move on. For one, because he tried once, many years ago, and failed miserably; for another, because he crossed that bridge the day he asked Kaveh to move in.
And so, Alhaitham finds himself back in that strange situation: He is so. Fucked.
Alhaitham is starting to miss those strange occasions of superhuman will. At least those made Kaveh hate him less. At least those made it clearer where they stand with each other.
The next time any sort of progress in their relationship occurs, it’s not Alhaitham being overcome by guilt or terror. It’s a Saturday night, Alhaitham’s just paid Kaveh’s tab, and his hand is on the waist of a less-tipsy-than-usual Kaveh. Alhaitham keeps his earpieces off to listen to Kaveh’s babbles, because even if most of his words are nonsense, Alhaitham would rather hear them than not.
Kaveh’s hips bump into Alhaitham’s, and the blonde laughs and says something about Alhaitham’s “stupidly pretty face.”
Alhaitham’s heard Kaveh say things along those lines before. When Kaveh’s in a laughing drunk mood instead of a sobbing drunk mood, he tends to say how pretty everything is. Alhaitham’s about to brush it off when Kaveh suddenly stops walking and stares into his eyes, and Alhaitham knows the pounding of his heart isn’t just because he, for once, had a bit more to drink than usual. Kaveh says something along the lines of we should get married, his tone all too earnest, and Alhaitham uses every shred of self control in his body not to kiss Kaveh, because that would be wrong in their current states of inebriation. Instead, he manages to murmur something like okay before Kaveh grabs his hand and tugs him along back home.
He fails to realize, likely in part because of the alcohol, that Kaveh’s not drunk enough to forget all that happened.
Alhaitham later recognizes this, but only after two days of confusion as to why Kaveh was avoiding him. Alhaitham’s own stupidity astounds him sometimes.
He doesn’t know how else to do it, so Alhaitham buys a plate of fatteh from Lambad’s, meeting the tavern owner’s knowing gaze. He buys a small bouquet, too, grateful that paying more than face value is enough to keep the florist’s mouth shut. He’s never understood Kaveh’s love for things like flowers, but he hopes there’s no harm in bringing home a bunch of the ones Kaveh’s expressed his love for.
Alhaitham almost feels like he’s back in the Akademiya, spending his meager allowance on food and coffee for Kaveh after days of sleepless worknights.
As always, he sets his shoes at the door next to Kaveh’s, washes his hands with the soap Kaveh bought, picks Mehrak off the counter and places it at Kaveh’s door, and picks a book off of the table littered with his and Kaveh’s things. He realizes then that this whole endeavor is rather silly, since the only thing romance would change is themselves; otherwise, their lives have become so intertwined that anyone looking around their house would assume they’re together anyway.
Alhaitham keeps his eyes focused on his book, even as Kaveh pads into the kitchen in curiosity. Kaveh doesn’t say anything, but Alhaitham hears his little gasp at the sight of the flowers and feels his gaze on him after he opens the container of fatteh.
He learns that night that he, too, had missed Kaveh’s first apology since he moved in, which had been uttered after some ridiculous argument and fell upon ears covered by wireless earpieces.
Alhaitham also learns that his calculations of the probability of reciprocation were off by about ninety-nine percent.
He learns that he never should have worried in the first place, because as petty as Kaveh is and always has been, they’ve both always known that they simply cannot be without the other. It’s not just Alhaitham who needs Kaveh, it’s Kaveh who needs Alhaitham.
Alhaitham relishes the first morning they leave the house to go to work at the same time, the first time they realize it’s much more comfortable to sleep in the same bed, the first evening they memorize each other’s tastes.
He relishes the first time he realizes that Kaveh’s flustered face is even better than his angry one.
Slowly, they start to spend evenings talking at home instead of drinking at the tavern or attempting to ignore each other.
Alhaitham lets himself be dragged around the market more often. Kaveh starts to actually clean up after himself.
It takes a long time for them to be okay just being. Kaveh seems to struggle with others learning about them. Alhaitham couldn’t care less whether people know about them. They get in an argument over it, a pretty big one, but for the first time, it doesn’t end in middle fingers or tears or silent treatments.
Alhaitham sees little point in a ring, but he gets one anyway, because he’s sure Kaveh would want one. A somewhat ornate gold band (designed with a lot of help from Tighnari, in particular) with red and teal gemstones- two different types of corundum, to be precise- because those seem right.
He decides to wait to give it to Kaveh. It’s illogical, but so is Kaveh.
Alhaitham had failed to consider that he wouldn’t get a chance to give the ring to Kaveh on his own terms. He hadn’t seen the possibility of being pulled excitedly towards a jewelry vendor in the Grand Bazaar, only for Kaveh to slide a black band with coral and turquoise onto his ring finger. He hadn’t known what else to do but pull out the ring he had bought and ask Kaveh the same question.
Alhaitham realizes then that this is what he had ached for all those years. The kind of love that slowly ate away at their rough spots whether they wanted it to or not. He wonders how he ever could have considered possibilities without Kaveh.
He knows, now, that in every lifetime, in every universe, whoever or whatever he is, he’ll be at Kaveh’s side, no matter what.