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The night air is cool and crisp against his skin, but laughter tickles him with warmth. Kaveh holds onto his date’s arm, his smile pressed into his shoulder. His chest hasn’t felt this light in a while, so Kaveh savors the feeling.
His date brushes a hair strand behind his ear. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, just quiet enough between the two of them.
“You’re just saying,” Kaveh says, but his smile grows regardless.
“I only say what I see,” his date replies, a similar smile playing on his lips.
Kaveh’s heart soars. He feels more than wanted, desired, as his date looks at him with softness. What a wonderful thing it is to be on the receiving end of affection.
As they approach his apartment, Kaveh pulls away to fish his keys out of his pocket. He mourns the loss of warmth against his body, but it’s a temporary problem—it’s not as if Kaveh is bringing him home to talk and watch movies. He misses the intimacy of scalding touches and passionate whispers.
For a moment, he worries he forgot his keys, but then familiar cold metal meets his fingertips. He pulls the key out, twists the lock, and opens the door.
He turns back, expecting to see his date looking at him with that same loving expression, only to find that he’s not looking at him at all. Rather, he’s looking at something past Kaveh.
Wondering what could possibly be stealing his date’s attention, Kaveh turns back to the house and spots the culprit.
Mehrak stands on the divan in all her furry glory. She doesn’t move or make a sound, content to stare them down with her beady little eyes. Even for a cat almost as small as a tissue box, she makes for an intimidating figure with her unfailing resolve and imposing aura.
“You can come in,” says Kaveh sheepishly, eyes darting between his date and his cat. “Mehrak is harmless. She gets anxious from time to time.”
“Ah, I get it,” his date says. His smile wanes, but he steps inside anyway. “Should I leave my shoes here or—”
Mehrak jumps off the divan and lands on the living room carpet with a dull thump. Head held high, she stalks toward his date. Then, her hairs raise on all ends, and she lets out a threatening hiss.
His date freezes, evidently afraid of a creature one-tenth his size. Kaveh rushes to defuse the situation.
“Mehrak.” Mehrak ignores him. “Mehrak,” he tries again. This time, she tilts her head to signal her acknowledgement, but her gaze remains fixed on his date. He kneels down to her level. “He’s not going to harm you. You’re okay.”
“Your cat, uh, doesn’t seem to like me very much,” his date says. He laughs shakily, still under Mehrak’s scrutiny.
“She’s… She gets like this with newcomers. It’s not just you.” Kaveh clicks his tongue, still trying to get Mehrak’s attention. No luck. “Mehrak, look at me. Mehrak.”
“I think I should go,” his date says, and Kaveh’s stomach drops. “We can… We can try this another time.” He inches closer to the door.
Alarms sound off in Kaveh’s head. He’s leaving. “Just give me a minute, and she’ll be fine,” Kaveh says, a tad more desperate than he wanted to sound. “She needs a little time—”
Mehrak chooses that moment to get into her pouncing position, forelegs stretched out and leaning back with her bosom in the air. Panicked, his date steps back and shuts the door with a slam. Rapid footsteps grow quieter and quieter until Kaveh can’t hear anything beyond his apartment walls.
He groans, plopping on the hardwood floor and putting his face in his hands. Not again.
----------
Getting into the dating scene again is harder than Kaveh originally imagined.
A month ago, when Kaveh decided he wanted to put himself out there again, he thought his biggest obstacle would be finding someone who respected him and his craft in the nation of egotistic scholars and pompous researchers. He soon would learn that although many of his dates failed to understand his values, the real obstacle lay somewhere else.
Exactly twenty-three days ago, Kaveh brought his date—a handsome, intelligent musician—to his home. Kaveh was smiling all the way on the walk back, holding his date’s hand as they rambled about their respective passions. The man was everything Kaveh was looking for in a partner, and Kaveh thought himself so lucky to find someone who matched his tastes so early on his dating journey.
Everything changed when Kaveh opened the front door.
Mehrak bared her little kitten teeth at his date and stared him down. Kaveh couldn’t be certain about the cause of her foul mood—perhaps she was uncomfortable with his new, frequent absences from the house? Whatever the cause, Kaveh tried to console her while his date apprehensively watched on. And yet, no matter what Kaveh said or did to calm Mehrak, she refused to let her guard down. With no other choice, Kaveh told his date to go and that he’d text later to schedule a different date.
Kaveh reached out. No reply.
After a few days of waiting, Kaveh considered himself ghosted. Rejection stung, but Kaveh only knew him for a few days. Disappointment faded quickly, and he moved on.
Then, exactly twelve days ago, he brought another date—this time, a foreigner from Fontaine—to his home. He was every bit the romantic Kaveh wanted in a partner, and his open admiration of the arts was a breath of fresh air. Kaveh’s heart pounded in anticipation when he brought his date to his door—for someone so romantic, Kaveh had a feeling his date was equally as passionate in bed.
When Kaveh opened the door, he was met with the same sight: Mehrak glaring at the unfamiliar man with her little beady eyes from her spot near the entrance.
Like the previous time, Kaveh rushed to placate her, but his attempts were futile. After a minute or two, his date made a lousy excuse and peaced out.
Twice was nothing. Kaveh brushed the incidents off as a product of his recurrent bouts of bad luck and put the misfortunes behind him.
And then, it happened again.
“I just don’t understand,” Kaveh laments, slouched on the divan. “Why does she have a problem with everyone I bring home?”
“I don’t know,” says Alhaitham, petting Mehrak’s fuzzy head as she lies snug on his lap. She lets out a delighted purr. “She’s never been comfortable with strangers.”
“She was completely fine with that student you mentor. She was rubbing up against her leg and everything!” Kaveh argues. “And she didn’t have a problem with Dehya when she came over for the first time.”
“Maybe she doesn’t like men.”
“We’re men.” Sighing, Kaveh turns his attention to Mehrak. “Why must you cause trouble, huh?”
He scratches her tiny chin, both in fondness and exasperation. She mewls, pulls away, then buries her face into Alhaitham’s stomach.
“Guess I don’t hold a candle to her favorite,” Kaveh grumbles, retracting his hand. “Whatever. I didn’t think dating would be so complicated.”
The sole complication being his cat.
“Last year, you said you’d never install a dating app because you wanted to meet someone naturally,” says Alhaitham. “Yet here we are.”
“I can’t just wait for someone to fall in my lap,” says Kaveh, a tad bit embarrassed of his desperation to date. “Unlike someone I know, I don’t want to be single my whole life.”
“Hm.”
“Don’t judge me. The dating pool only shrinks with age, and I’m what—almost thirty?”
“Plenty of time to settle down.” Alhaitham rubs Mehrak’s ears, and she leans into his touch. What betrayal. “You’re acting like you’ll wither away if you don’t get another date by next week.”
“You don’t get it,” says Kaveh, shaking his head. “Sometimes, I think I’ll never leave this house.”
Alhaitham’s hand stills on Mehrak’s head. His expression is carefully neutral, or in other words, practically unreadable. Nevertheless, his passivity isn’t perfect, and the subtle clench of his jaw is hard to miss for someone who knows Alhaitham as well as Kaveh does.
“You want to move out?” asks Alhaitham.
“Oh, don’t be surprised. You know this,” says Kaveh. “You’d get more out of it anyway. No more noise keeping you up at night, every room to yourself, and you wouldn’t have to worry about the men I bring over either.”
“I don’t mind you bringing men over. You don’t need to move out just because you want to have intercourse.”
“It’s not just about having sex! I want to settle down,” says Kaveh. Wouldn’t that be nice? To start a family with someone he loves and trusts wholeheartedly—what a dream. “Although, for once, you’re not the problem. Mehrak minds my choice of partners, and I don’t have the first idea why.”
Alhaitham shrugs, unable to relate to Kaveh’s plight. “You weren’t going to spend the rest of your life with them anyway.”
“You don’t know that. How am I supposed to know that if I don’t get the chance to get closer to them?”
“Mehrak is a smart girl. If she’s chasing them away, she has a reason.”
Kaveh’s gaze shifts to Mehrak again. He leans in until her adorable, beady eyes have no choice but to focus on him.
“Did you have a reason?” he asks.
She takes a second—presumably processing Kaveh’s question—then her head bobs up and down.
“Whatever your reason is, I need you to stop,” Kaveh says, firm but gentle. “If he isn’t right for me, then I can find that out on my own. Do you understand?”
She pauses longer this time but eventually gives the same nod.
“Good girl,” he says, patting her head.
“She’s not going to listen to you just because you told her to,” Alhaitham says as Mehrak cozies up to him again. He strokes her fur until she lets out a pleased purr and settles back down.
“Says who? Mehrak wouldn’t lie to me,” says Kaveh. Besides the strange hostility to Kaveh’s guests, Mehrak has only ever been the perfect picture of an angel.
“Don’t be surprised when I say I told you so.”
“You won’t get the chance to,” Kaveh bites back. Alhaitham deigns not to respond, and he directs his attention to the pretty kitty demanding his love and care. How typical of him.
With nothing else to do, Kaveh pulls his phone out and opens the dating app, his thumb ready to swipe.
----------
Kaveh falls face first on the divan. He groans. At this point, disappointment shouldn’t affect him anymore. He’s felt it enough for a lifetime.
Just ten minutes ago, Kaveh was on top of the world. His date was kind, charming, and damn attractive with that playboy smile paired with warm, defense-melting eyes. Kaveh was amazed that someone who was such a catch swiped right on him. In fact, Kaveh was stunned that someone like him even needed an app to find someone to go out with! But Kaveh wasn’t complaining. After three failed attempts, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
When he had his hand on his door handle, he had hope. Surely, he wouldn’t see Mehrak as soon as he cracked the door open. Surely, she wouldn’t go out of her way to make his date feel unwelcome. Surely, even if Mehrak misbehaved like he begged her not to, his date wouldn’t turn on his heel and leave him alone for the night.
Evidently, Kaveh had too much hope.
A furry paw pats his arm, which dangles off the divan. The touch is meant to be comforting and reassuring, but Kaveh feels anything but comforted and reassured. Especially when the one who’s comforting him is the one who put him in the situation he’s in.
“Go away, Mehrak,” grumbles Kaveh. He’s not in the mood to face her after the stunt she just pulled.
“Cut her some slack,” says another person in the room. Alhaitham. “She’s trying to be helpful.”
“I don’t want to hear it from you either,” says Kaveh, lifting his head and sitting up with a groan. “Go on. Get it out. You can say it.” He already hears those four words floating in the air anyway.
“If you already know, then there’s no need for me to repeat it,” says Alhaitham. He sits next to Kaveh on the divan and plucks Mehrak off the floor. She struggles, trying to bat her way to Kaveh, but Alhaitham keeps her in place. “If he runs away from a little hissing, then what makes you think he won’t run away later?”
Kaveh glares at him, but he knows Alhaitham is right. “I just want someone to stay,” he admits. “Is that so much to ask for?”
“No,” Alhaitham says. “But you’re looking in the wrong places.”
“Then pray tell, where am I supposed to look?”
Sensing an opening, Mehrak wriggles out of Alhaitham’s hold and leaps into Kaveh’s lap. On his thighs, she stands on her two hind legs and paws at his chest with her two front ones. Cunning, she weaponizes her two cute eyes, blinking up at Kaveh with concern.
Kaveh has a weak, weak heart. Before he knows it, his hand moves to stroke her fur and soothe her.
“Rascal,” says Kaveh as she purrs under his attention. “You always get what you want, huh?”
“And who gives that to her?” chimes Alhaitham.
“Oh, hush. Don’t act like you don’t spoil her just as much.” Kaveh runs his fingers up and down her sides, and she lets out little, pleased kitty-giggles that encourage him to keep up the massage. “I’m not going to bring anyone around for the time being.”
A pause. “You’re not going out anymore?”
“I didn’t say that,” says Kaveh, bringing Mehrak closer to his chest and continuing to pet her. “But evidently, Mehrak won’t play nice with anyone I bring home yet, so I’m revising my approach.”
“And that approach involves what? Going to your date’s house instead at the end of the night?”
“I haven’t figured out all the details yet. Not that it’s any of your business,” says Kaveh with a huff. “Why’d you come out of your room anyway? To feast your eyes upon my suffering?”
“How thespian of you. I merely wanted a change of scenery.”
“Yeah, right.” Kaveh doesn’t believe him one bit. Somehow, Alhaitham always shows up at his lows as if he has a sixth sense that informs him whenever something bad happens in Kaveh’s life. “If you wanted a change of scenery, you would’ve gone on a walk or something. You’d have a better chance of meeting someone out there than I do here,” he says, pulling out his phone.
No new matching notifications from the app. Kaveh frowns.
“I’m not looking for anyone. That’s all you,” says Alhaitham, unbothered.
“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Married-to-His-Books,” Kaveh says with an eye roll. He puts his phone down. “You’re so above being in love.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous,” says Alhaitham as he puts his hands on his knees and pushes himself up. “If you’re done sulking, go to bed. Your eye bags are getting bigger.”
“Wha—! Why didn’t you tell me this before? Alhaitham. Alhaitham.”
Alhaitham walks out of view without a glance back at Kaveh.
“What am I going to do with the two of you?” mutters Kaveh, looking down at Mehrak snuggled up to him. She blinks innocently, but her cuteness has deceived him too many times for him to be fooled again. He rubs her head, and her eyelids flutter shut. His heart melts in spite of himself.
Back to square one, he thinks as he strokes Mehrak’s back while she snores. With his free hand, he reaches for his phone and opens the app again. Swipe, rinse and repeat.
----------
“Who are you texting?” Alhaitham asks over dinner one day.
Kaveh barely registers the question, preoccupied with answering the ‘can’t wait to see you again x’ text he just received. Alhaitham waits, biting into a piece of naan.
“No one,” answers Kaveh by instinct. Then he catches a glimpse of Alhaitham’s you-aren’t-fooling-me face and says, “You already know who I’m texting. Why ask?”
“My assumptions are not always accurate,” says Alhaitham in a rare show of humility. “But if I had to guess off your reply, I’d assume you’re texting a new date.”
“Not new. We’ve been on a few dates together already.” Kaveh texts a quick ‘ttyl eating dinner’ and reacts to the previous message with a heart. He slides his phone back into his pocket.
“Hm.” Alhaitham takes another bite of naan. “Is he treating you well?”
Kaveh blinks, caught off guard. “Of course.”
“What’s his name?”
“What is this—an interrogation?” says Kaveh, mock-annoyed. “His name is Ghaith.”
“Ghaith,” Alhaitham repeats. “Tell me about him.”
“There isn’t much to say. I’ve known him for three weeks,” says Kaveh, scratching the back of his neck. “But he’s nice. He got me flowers on the first date. He works with textiles and paints as a hobby. He’s been surprisingly patient too. We haven’t done anything beyond Fontainian kissing, and he hasn’t pushed me into anything.” Kaveh racks his brain for more things to say, but most of his thoughts sound superficial. “And he’s handsome.”
“So he matches your aesthetic criteria?” Alhaitham says with an eyebrow arched in interest. “Show me a picture.”
“That’s what you focus on?” says Kaveh. “I’ll show you his profile, but you can’t click on anything. You understand?”
Alhaitham nods in a compliant manner all too reminiscent of their younger years. Kaveh resists the urge to lean over and pinch his cheeks, which no longer have the same baby fat that made him so cute when he was a kid. Instead, he opens his phone to the notification of his date heart-ing his previous message, and he searches for his social media profile.
“Here,” Kaveh says once he finds his profile and hands his phone over.
Alhaitham squints at the screen, scrolling through the photos. His scrutinizing expression doesn’t change much as he peruses the profile. After sufficiently getting a good look at the guy, he hands the phone back.
“He’s okay,” says Alhaitham, a strange sour note to the edge of his voice.
“So you think he’s good-looking too,” says Kaveh, triumphant. Alhaitham has never been one to mince his words, and okay is a better reaction than Kaveh anticipated.
“Hm.” Alhaitham picks up his water and sips. “You can do better,” he mumbles into the rim of the glass.
“Better?” Kaveh echoes, startled. The sudden sweetness slaps him across the face. Since when did Alhaitham think so highly of him? “I don’t have room to be picky. And be honest,” Kaveh says, glancing down at his still-open phone where his date, with his curly hair and toned body and sharp eyes and all, smiles flirtatiously into the camera. “He’s out of my league.”
“You’re the Light of Kshahrewar. No one is out of your league.”
“Superficial titles don’t matter in romance. He’s better-looking, and—well, most people would say he has a better personality too,” muses Kaveh. “He’s easygoing. Far more agreeable than me.”
“Agreeable,” Alhaitham parrots, the sour edge turning venomous. “You want someone agreeable?”
“I don’t want to argue with my partner every day of our lives together,” says Kaveh, defensive. “And if that’s what you mean by agreeable, then yes, I want someone agreeable.”
Alhaitham is quiet. His silence isn’t anything unusual, but for some reason, a twinge of worry appears in Kaveh’s chest. He chews on his piece of naan and watches Alhaitham for any sign of a response.
After a handful of seconds that seem to stretch forever, Alhaitham asks, “So when are you going to introduce him to Mehrak?”
“I don’t know,” Kaveh admits. He looks down at his plate, barely touched. “I don’t know what I’d do if it goes poorly again.”
“Are you afraid that Mehrak will scare him off or that he’ll leave like the others?”
“I’m not afraid,” says Kaveh, ignoring the pang in his chest. Like the others. He knows Alhaitham doesn’t mean it cruelly, but it rattles inside his chest nonetheless. “Archons forbid I want this to go well.”
“If he leaves, what are you going to do—swipe until you find a new date? And if the next one leaves?” Alhaitham presses. “When will this be over?”
“Alhaitham, stop,” Kaveh warns. “I didn’t ask for your opinion on my choices, none of which have to do with you.” Alhaitham falls quiet again, and Kaveh sighs. “I told you I was looking for someone to spend my life with. That doesn’t end, no matter how many people walk out.”
Kaveh’s gaze doesn’t waver from Alhaitham, and Alhaitham, who never wavers in anything, stares right back. A complicated look swirls in his eyes, but before Kaveh can decipher it, his expression mellows out to normal.
“I’m going out to drink with Dehya and Candace tomorrow night,” says Alhaitham, a careful measure to each word. “I won't be back until late. If you want to… introduce him to Mehrak.”
The implications aren’t lost on Kaveh. He should feel relief that Alhaitham won’t be there, won’t interfere in his business, but the calculated cadence to his distant tone concerns Kaveh.
“I’ll think about it,” mumbles Kaveh. His eyes return to his plate.
Conversation doesn’t come back for the rest of dinner.
----------
Kaveh groans as his back meets the solid wood of his front door. A body cages him in place, and lips swallow each groan and gasp he delivers.
“I could do this forever,” murmurs Ghaith, his date, and Kaveh laughs between their mouths.
The kiss is pleasant—certainly not even close to the ranking of worst kisses he’s had—but it’s not the dizzyingly passionate kiss he longs for. Though, in all fairness, Kaveh can’t blame his date. The thought of what lies on the other side of the door consumes his mind.
Kaveh lets out another decorated moan as his date’s hands find their way to his sides. The touch doesn’t send sparks up his spine, but he enjoys the sensation of encompassing hands on his waist regardless. Closing his eyes, Kaveh lets his imagination take over. His thoughts, responding to the longing sheltered in his ribcage, wander into a sea-green ocean sparkling under an amber sky. He fools himself and pretends he can feel papercuts and calluses—the kind only someone who writes regularly would have on their hands—against his torso.
“I want you,” his date whispers, and the dream shatters. Those three words are everything Kaveh yearns to hear, but the voice is all wrong.
Kaveh shuts that line of thinking down to focus solely on the man in front of him. The man who’s holding him. The man who’s kissing him. The man who wants him.
Ghaith’s lips slide off Kaveh’s own spit-covered lips, and his mouth travels down Kaveh’s neck, planting featherlight pecks down its smooth expanse. Before his lips latch onto the skin and leave a mark, Kaveh pushes his shoulders back.
“Inside first,” he says, and his date nods. Kaveh pulls his key out of his pocket and turns around.
The keyhole is more daunting than it should be. As soon as he puts the key in and twists the lock, he'll most certainly face a displeased, disapproving Mehrak beyond the door. The question isn’t whether Mehrak will try to scare off his newest date but if she succeeds at doing so. Kaveh sneaks a glance back at Ghaith. He’s never given the impression that he’d be scared of a cat smaller than the size of his calf, and Kaveh has hope that he won’t run away after the sufficient time they’ve spent together.
Before Ghaith notices he’s hesitating, Kaveh inserts the key and unlocks the door, bracing himself.
Nothing could prepare him for the sight of the living room.
Deep scratches mar the sage-green cushions of the divans, and offwhite fluff spills out of them onto the carpet. Bits of cat food are everywhere, and the fruits Kaveh put in the middle of the coffee table lie crushed, their juices sinking into the rug. The vase by the window is no longer a vase but several jagged shards of porcelain. Purple-white flowers, which previously lived in the vase, splay their dreary petals among the mess of debris. The only things untouched by the tornado that swept the room are the bookshelves—and thank the stars for that small mercy. Amid the chaos, Mehrak sits proudly on the unsalvageable divan, seemingly smirking.
No uncertainty remains. It’s clear who’s responsible.
“Mehrak,” Kaveh calls, high-strung but holding onto threads of calm. “Did you do this?”
She doesn’t respond. Carefully, she jumps off the divan and stalks through the scattered scraps and miscellaneous objects on the floor, all without looking away from her prey—his date. In shock, Kaveh doesn’t know what to do. In no time, she makes her way to Ghaith. Once close enough, she gets into her most intimidating position, ready to pounce.
Then she lets out the most icy hiss Kaveh has ever heard from her.
To his credit, Ghaith doesn’t flinch. But the tension in his face is unmistakable. His lips, so genuine moments ago, now perform a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“What a welcome,” he says with a strained laugh as he glances down at Mehrak, who continues to hiss and bare her teeth.
He looks around what looks to be a war-torn room. His eyes dart between mess after mess, disapproval building in his gaze. After taking in his surroundings, he directs his attention to Kaveh, looking him up and down as if reassessing his character. As if determining if he’s worth the disaster that comes with him.
“I don’t know what happened here,” Kaveh says, the beginnings of desperation leaking into his voice. “The living room isn’t usually like this. Mehrak isn’t usually like this.”
To contradict his point, Mehrak bites Ghaith’s shoe.
Visibly uncomfortable, he shuffles away from her. “This isn’t how I planned tonight to go,” he mutters in a low tone, leaving Kaveh unsure if he means for him to hear it. Then, in a normal volume, he adds, “You should focus on fixing this up.”
Kaveh swallows. He gets the memo. He didn’t plan for tonight to end up this way either, but the pressing situation of his living room takes priority. “Yeah. You’ll call me later?”
A guilty look crosses his date’s face, and Kaveh knows. Lips lie, but truth lives in his eyes.
“I will,” says Ghaith, and he turns away. Mehrak hisses after him one last time, then the door shuts.
Kaveh turns toward the living room. He picks up the cushion fluff littered on the floor. Without a doubt, they’ll need to buy new cushions and fabrics. The thought of how much mora Kaveh will need to spend on replacing their furniture sends his already-stressed mind into a frenzy.
Mehrak, who was oh-so-prideful when his date was in the room, now toddles after Kaveh with meekness in her steps. She meows softly and paws at Kaveh’s legs. In any other situation, the gesture would be cute, but Kaveh is unspeakably upset. Though more than anything, he doesn’t want her to hurt herself while trying to navigate the mess she’s made.
“Mrow,” she whines as Kaveh scoops her, neither gently nor roughly, and walks her to the kitchen, where he sets her on the counter.
“Stay here,” says Kaveh, no trace of teasing in his tone. “Don’t follow me.”
Mehrak must understand his seriousness because she doesn’t whine nor does she trail after him once he leaves her on the counter. She blinks at him sadly, but Kaveh refuses to be swayed. He doesn’t know what to do with the frustration sloshing inside him except channel all that tense energy into cleaning.
He sweeps the broken porcelain and hopes that the sharp edges won’t rip the trash bag. He puts the wilted flowers in the garbage too. He’ll miss the splash of color they gave to the room.
Cleaning the food peppered around the room is a more laborious task. For one, the cat food has wormed its way into every nook and cranny, leaving Kaveh on a wild goose chase to locate each crumb. And then there’s the smashed, leaking fruits on the rug. Kaveh grimaces as he cleans the sticky ooze clinging to the fuzzy hairs of the carpet. He has a feeling the stains won’t be coming out any time soon.
Guilt eats at Kaveh. Mehrak is his cat, and he brought his date to the house knowing that Mehrak wouldn’t behave—although he didn’t know to what extent she’d cause trouble. Tears accumulate in his waterline and slip down his cheeks. The last thing he wants is for Alhaitham to come home to a decimated divan and his kohl-stained face.
Could the day have gone any worse? Perhaps this is Celestia’s way of saying that he’ll be alone forever. His fingers itch to open his phone and delete the dating app. A viable romantic relationship isn’t in the cards for him, not when Mehrak hates every man he’s brought through the door.
After he’s cleaned up as much as he can, he beelines for his bedroom. After exhausting himself both emotionally and physically, he wants nothing more than to flop on his sheets and sleep his problems away. Yet when he brushes by his bedroom door, a pair of beady eyes stare into him.
“I told you to stay in the kitchen,” scolds Kaveh, but his words lack real heat after draining his energy in the living room. “I’m upset with you,” he says, vulnerability seeping out of his voice cracks. He kneels down to her level.
“Mrow.” She nudges Kaveh’s hand with her nose, offering her cat-typical comfort. He doesn’t refuse the gesture but he doesn’t indulge her either.
With his other hand, he wipes his watery eyes. Black pigment smears on his knuckles. He must look just as much of a mess as the living room was when he first walked in.
“You can’t— You can’t do that,” says Kaveh, emphatic and on the precipice of breaking down all over again. “You wrecked the living room because what? I brought over someone you don’t like? You promised you would play nice, and you lied to me. Twice.”
“...Mrow.”
“Sorry won’t fix the damages.” Nor would it bring his date back. His phone sits in his pocket without a single buzz or vibration. Kaveh doubts the notification will ever come. “I want to grow old with someone. I want to get married.” His eyes mist again as the rare image of his mother laughing, smiling with his father flashes in his mind. “But I can’t do that if you chase away every man who shows interest in me.”
“Mrow! Mrow, mrow, mrow. Mrow-mrow!” meows Mehrak in protest.
“I know. I know why you’re doing this,” says Kaveh, shoulders sagging under the weight of sad acceptance. “He doesn’t like me, let alone love me, like that. Believe me. I’ve tried. But he just doesn’t… doesn’t feel that way. I’m tired of hoping for something to change. How many years of my life am I going to give him while I wait for the impossible?” Another tear sheds. Mehrak doesn’t move. “No matter how many guys you scare off, Alhaitham won’t love me back.”
Just then, the door creaks, and he cranes his head, tearing his gaze away from Mehrak’s unblinking stare and readjusting his focus on the doorway. His heart plummets seven stories underground.
When Kaveh asked if his day could have gone any worse, he meant it rhetorically. Clearly, some higher power has taken it upon themselves to respond to that question, and their answer is yes.
Yes, it can get worse.
“The cushion,” says Alhaitham, speech unusually clumsy, as he stands at the door. “It’s ripped.”
Air punctures out of Kaveh’s lungs.
“How long have you been standing there?” he asks, breathless. He’s scared to know the answer.
Alhaitham doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, speechless.
Dread overcomes Kaveh, and a cold sweat breaks out on his burning skin. God, he doesn’t want to know what he looks like to Alhaitham. He berates himself for not thinking before he spoke. Evidently, Alhaitham heard every word, and there’s no exit for Kaveh to escape the consequences of his actions. Go figures.
For all the times Kaveh called him heartless during their rarely-occurring serious arguments, Alhaitham is anything but. He’s kind, exceptionally so, and Kaveh would know. The main source of his modern guilt comes from habitation in Alhaitham’s home. He’s well aware Alhaitham would never kick him out, even after seeing the state of the divan and hearing Kaveh admit his feelings for him. When it comes to Kaveh, Alhaitham’s kindness becomes a fatal flaw that he can’t help but take advantage of again and again.
That’s why Kaveh has to leave on his own.
“I’ll pay for replacement cushions,” he murmurs, “and for everything else Mehrak broke.” Apologize. You have to apologize. “Haitham, I...”
Alhaitham looks off. Kaveh expected his usual inexpressive expression with maybe traces of disappointment or distress, but that’s not what he sees at all. Rather, Alhaitham’s rosy-tan lips are parted and his cheeks are flushed a dark color. Strangely enough, wonderment whirls in those dazed eyes of sea-green and amber—which, in Kaveh’s vision, seem oddly teary.
Then he remembers where Alhaitham went tonight.
“Are you drunk?” he sputters. He raises himself back to full height and strides over to Alhaitham. Upon closer inspection, his eyes are teary and his pupils are blown wide to boot. The curious flush on his face reminds Kaveh of Alhaitham when he’s sick, so he presses the back of his forehand against Alhaitham’s forehead. Normal temperature. Huh.
“No,” Alhaitham says, the beginnings of a smile on his lips turning into a frown. “I had two drinks.”
More like two drinks too many, thinks Kaveh, but he doesn’t voice his concerns. If Alhaitham thinks he’s fine, then he’s fine. He can’t spend too much time fussing over Alhaitham, lest he brings up what Kaveh wants—no, needs to forget about.
There’s also the matter of packing that Kaveh knows he can’t delay any longer. Hm.
Kaveh steps back, intending to give Alhaitham space and to start figuring out the logistics of finding a new place to live, when Alhaitham’s head falls onto Kaveh’s shoulder.
He jolts, then jolts again when Alhaitham’s hands settle on his hips, keeping him in place. Kaveh lifts his hands to the sides of Alhaitham’s shoulders. He should push him away. He really should. But if Alhaitham’s fatal flaw is his kindness, then Kaveh’s fatal flaw is Alhaitham.
He lets him be.
“I lied,” says Alhaitham into the fabric of Kaveh’s shirt. Questions whir in Kaveh’s mind, and then Alhaitham answers them—well, some of them. “I mind when you bring men over. I don’t like it.”
Kaveh opens his mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but every word dies on his tongue when Alhaitham raises his head, revealing shimmering, pink-rimmed eyes.
“I only said that because I was afraid you’d leave.”
And Kaveh’s world turns upside down.
“You— You want me to stay?” says Kaveh incredulously. “You don’t mean that. You’re under the influence.”
“I told you I’m not drunk,” Alhaitham insists. “When have you known me to say things I don’t mean?”
Never, thinks Kaveh. But Alhaitham has always been so good to him, even at the expense of himself. Would Alhaitham’s kindness stretch so far to save Kaveh the despair of another rejection?
“You’ve never given any indication that this arrangement was anything more than temporary,” says Kaveh. He wants to believe him, but believing is dangerous. He believed that his dates would stay, only for that belief to shatter once they met Mehrak’s gaze.
But the difference is that he trusts Alhaitham. Even during the fight they never speak of, trust never tore between them. Only understanding did.
So when Alhaitham asks, “Will you let me prove it to you?” Kaveh nods.
A pair of lips pushes squarely against his.
Kaveh makes an mmph! sound from the shock, and his fingers cling to the skintight fabric at Alhaitham’s triceps. His thoughts lag as Alhaitham’s mouth moves. On paper, the kiss is mediocre. Alhaitham’s lips could use some moisturization, and his motions are ungainly and uncoordinated. To someone experienced like Kaveh, the kiss should feel blah.
And yet, he’s never had a better one.
Kaveh can feel Alhaitham’s nervousness, so he carefully cups his face and guides Alhaitham’s movements. Slowly, they fall into sync. The rhythm is addicting, and for a brief moment, Kaveh forgets where he is and what he’s doing. Everything feels so right that he can’t remember when everything felt so wrong.
He doesn’t have to leave. Alhaitham wants him to stay. Alhaitham wants him to stay.
Inevitably, they part with a gasp—Alhaitham’s fault for forgetting to breathe through his nose. Not knowing what to say, Kaveh looks at Alhaitham, who looks back at him with awe dancing in his eyes.
Although he’s absurdly tall now, a few centimeters above Kaveh, and broad and fit and built, Alhaitham looks every bit the junior Kaveh met at the library when he was barely a teen.
“Was that enough proof for you?” asks Alhaitham, teasing yet earnest all the same.
“I don’t know,” says Kaveh, his lips twitching into a smile. “A little more wouldn’t hurt.”
Alhaitham huffs but indulges him nonetheless. Their foreheads touch, and their lips reach for each other, ready to find each other again, when—
“Mrow! Mrow-mrow!”
Kaveh and Alhaitham pull apart. Mehrak glares up at them. She wriggles between their ankles and jumps on her hindlegs.
Get a room! is what she means.
A real laugh leaves Kaveh’s throat. “Looks like she found a new date to dislike.”
Alhaitham scoops Mehrak in his arms, and she doesn’t resist. “She loves me.” Proving him right, she nuzzles his cheek and purrs in glee. “Almost as much as a certain architect I know.”
“You’re insufferable.” Kaveh wants nothing more than to shut him up with his mouth again. “That reminds me—I need to get new cushions for the divan.”
“We can pick them out tomorrow,” Alhaitham offers, and Kaveh doesn’t miss the ‘we’ in his statement.
We, as in together. We, as in one home.
Kaveh smiles, unhidden and free. He gazes at Alhaitham, who’s tickling Mehrak’s belly and scratching her sides as she cuddles into his chest. For the first time, he has a feeling that this one will stay.
“Okay. Let’s do that.”