Work Text:
Alhaitham and Kaveh were not exactly friends.
“Get out.”
“Excuse me?”
Kaveh didn’t look at him. Just pointed to the door.
“Leave. Now.”
Alhaitham scoffed, folding his arms in front of his chest. “This is my house. Why do you expect me to leave?” He could play the long game.
“You don’t let me work. You don’t let me think. You’re always hovering, always in my face with your logic.”
“I’m just trying to make things easier for you.”
Kaveh’s eyes burned. Not from tears. From rage. “Yeah,” He spat, “Easier. You sit there, with your– your smug little comments and act like you’re better than everyone else.” He paced around the room.
“Kaveh, calm down, you know I’m trying to help you.” Alhaitham inched forward, palms sweating, the hair on his neck raised.
Kaveh stopped in his tracks.
“Help me?”
A bitter laugh.
“Help me?” His voice shot up like a bullet.
“ALL you’ve done is fucking HURT ME!” Kaveh whipped around, voice cracking, chest heaving. He slammed his fist against the table, silverware rattling, tears streaming down his face. “You’re always the same. Every single day. You come home, you tell me I’m overdramatic or something. ‘This wouldn’t have happened if you just fired the client.”
“I’m not trying to–”
Kaveh continued, furious.
‘You still owe me rent,’ this, that, is there EVER anything I do right, Alhaitham?”
He opened his mouth to respond but Kaveh didn’t let him.
“Don’t you DARE speak over me!”
Alhaitham froze. His cold, calculating tone was faltering, fear settling in.
“Kaveh, I never meant to hurt you, I-“
A choked sob stuttered from Kaveh’s throat.
“You made it so hard to love you.”
He looked back at Alhaitham one last time.
Then he left.
…
Three days have passed. Three days alone, three days without Kaveh. Three empty days of pacing, three days of sleeping on the couch waiting for a knock on the door. Two mugs on the counter, two chairs at the table. Two toothbrushes, two towels over the sink. Two knocks on the door.
Wait.
“Huh?”
Alhaitham’s stomach dropped. A sick, churning sensation settled itself in his ribcage, his numbed mind flooding with anxiety, and no matter how hard he tried to push it down, a sickening feeling of hope. He didn’t want to believe it was Kaveh. He didn’t want to hope that. He couldn’t hope that. Hope never got him anywhere, did it? Blood roared through his ears, lungs heaving, palms sweating.
No, no I must be hearing things. It can’t be him, it can’t-
They knocked again.
“Mr….Alhaitham? A letter for you!” A cheerful young man’s voice rang out from behind the door.
The door creaked open as Alhaitham shuffled out of the door onto his patio, hair unkempt and eyes wary.
The young man’s exuberant smile faded as his eyes swept the interior of the house visible behind Alhaitham's hunched figure—dishes were piled in the sink, clothes littered all over the floor.
His cheer had clearly faded, clearing his throat before cautiously addressing Alhaitham again. “Excuse me, sir, sorry to…disturb you.” In his outstretched hand was a simple white letter bordered in black ink.
Alhaitham stumbled over his words, blindly sifting through his pockets for any spare change. “How much?”
“Hundred mora.”
He handed the mailman three small gold coins, receiving the letter with a nod.
…
Dear Scribe Alhaitham,
We regret to inform you of the passing of our beloved architect Kaveh. He has included you in his will and, in it, personally requested that you donate his things from his residence and retrieve the items left for you from the judicial office as soon as possible.
We extend our sincerest condolences to you and encourage you to take care of yourself on a mandatory 3 weeks off.
The Akademiya