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People have people.  

Three words suddenly found their way into Al-Haitham's head. 

People have people.  

Oh. It all made sense then. 

Al-Haitham woke up. It had been yet another dreamless night. 

No wonder it had been: Al-Haitham simply had no dreams. No goals nor passions to achieve.  

He had, once, when he was still holding onto the only world he knew of, his family, afraid to see it crumble away. His little heart had kept on beating for anything to happen ─ for his parents to take a glance at him, for his parents to talk to him ─ this was once his dream, such a fragile dream: love. From his own conceivers. 

He glanced out of the small window: one look was enough for him to know it was yet again three in the morning, the hour his body had learnt to wake up at. He would fall asleep at midnight, unable to do so sooner, just to wake up barely three hours later. It had become a routine that, with time again, he had found comfort in, despite his shaking hands and legs and the tiredness bare on his features.  

He was used to this. Staying up at night was so calming after all. 

No sound could his ears perceive ─ not a mouse hiding in the bushes, not a owl soaring under the stars. Not one whisper from the wind, not one rustling from the leaves ─ nature was always so silent at this time of the night ─ Al-Haitham was grateful for this. Only the breathing of his own respire was there, maybe to quite mock him ─ to remind him of how lone was he truly. 

His heart briefly ached before his mind told him that it was okay. That this was how he was born and how he would forever live. An abnormal life, barely one to call it "life” at all. 

He had long realized it, because no, Al-Haitham was no fool. He knew very well of who he was: Nobody. It ached, oh, how it ached, still Al-Haitham wished no pity for himself. He just wanted his body to accept his fate ─ his body, an hideous one, he now thought as he stared at the horror mirrored in front of him, the cold tiles of the bathroom floor sending shivers up his feet. 

Was this how he looked like, after all? 
These mint eyes, that didn’t hold life. This grey hair, God, what kind of being would be born with such thing? These chapped lips ─ these swollen marks under the eyes ─ this pale skin that showed no hint of humanity ─ 

No. It was not. Everytime, a new person would stare back at him in the mirror.  

The person would move just like him, would feel just like him, then it would also sound like him, if he tried to speak, but ─ so sure of this was he: those people were not him. 

He thought he was going insane. 

Al-Haitham finally moved his gaze to the white sink below. He swallowed the knot that had formed in his throat and washed his hands with a scented soap as the marble cold water poured from the tap. 

When was the last time he had showered this body, he wondered? He could not recall. He felt like it needed one ─ it was sticky of sweat and the hair hurt his scalp. When was the last time he brushed these teeth, he wondered? So young, his father always told him he needed to brush them every night before sleep. So young, he had no trouble staying true to this rule, but now, now... Al-Haitham couldn’t recall the last time he did it. 

I’ll do it another time, he decided. It’s not like anyone would ever notice.  

That was right. It was the very first certainty of his life: he was alone. 

Alone as a dissipating cloud, sent away by the wind to start a forlorn journey in the endless sky. Alone as a kitty on the side of the road, wet from the pouring rain, abandoned by his mother. Alone as a dying butterfly, finally lying her tender wings on a leaf, now lifeless, after flying for one last time. 

He was alone as Al-Haitham had always been alone. One constant of his life he had yet to find peace in, at least, that is what he wished for. To please ─ just ─  accept it, and let the pain fade away. 

He pleaded, with tears streaming down his face. He pleaded again, and again ─ yet the ache never left, it kept swallowing his heart, feeding off of all the despair his body and mind had brought into him every single day he lived. 

It never ended. 

Al-Haitham finally sat down in class. As usual, he was the first one to arrive, he made sure of this to avoid having to walk through crowds and, most importantly, to avoid disgusting others of his Self ─ he was too ugly to be around people. He promised himself he would never bother another of his existence. No one deserved to look at him.  

Sitting at one of the farthest desks from the professor, next to the wall, he soon heard the students coming in. Al-Haitham did not really know how any of them looked like. He always kept his head down, staring at his bony hands, how distant they felt, too afraid to even look up once and let a person look at him, his revolting Self. How disgusting was he, with his unsightly body, his lifeless mint eyes, his odd grey hair. None of it was normal, yet, his heart couldn’t help yearn for that normality that his brain convinced him he could never hold. 

It went always like this: his brain talking, thus his heart suffering. 
A part of him longed to understand. Why was he so different? Was it a curse, to be born this way? And why, of all people, him? Such questions prevented him from getting sleep, but in the end, the answer was always one: this is how he was born, his very own fate.  

And there was no way of changing it. 

The lesson continued as usual: Al-Haitham didn’t dare look up and silently took note of what his professor was explaining, too aware of how secluded he had made himself. 

He was actually a diligent student, here, at the Akademiya. His grades were great, he was one of the best students, yet, to himself, he was never enough. He lost the majority of his days alone in his room, nonetheless, he could barely sit down at his desk and study. The only thing that moved him enough to do it was not to see his father scream at him for failing classes again. 

He was on his way back to his dorm when he suddenly heard it: laughters. 

His heart acted before his mind, and the sight before him shocked him enough to make him stop to look at it properly.  

It was a group of students, four, or maybe five. He did not understand the reason, if there was one at all, but these people were.. simply laughing, loudly. The girls were holding their stomachs while the boys were throwing their heads backs ─ Al-Haitham didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how this came so naturally to people, to humans. 

How humans naturally tended towards each other. 

Al-Haitham couldn’t help but wonder if that was how humans simply were. No science, no philosophy, nor the constellations in the sky could ever explain this: genuine laughter . No, no, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.  

Al-Haitham decided one more thing in that very moment ─ a “second certainty”, as he would later call it: he was not a human. 

Al-Haitham woke up. As usual, he didn’t have any dreams that night. 

He had often wondered why: was it because of how he grew up? How his parents had treated him? But they had never been bad parents. They had taken care of him, they had bought him gifts, they had celebrated his birthday, and they had went on holidays, he, his mother and his father, all together. 

Yet... something had been missing. 

Was it the lack of caresses? The lack of understanding? The lack of sweet words, he had longed for so often? Was it the amount of times he got yelled at, for doing something he didn’t even understand? What went wrong, exactly, that turned him into this? 

He moved his head and looked outside the window: it was dark, again, and surely it was three in the morning, again. He didn’t know why he still made sure of it, as if anything was ever going to change. 

Al-Haitham's body refused to get up. The heaviness of his blankets was the only comfort he had felt in a while, it felt like an hearthy hug, thus, he laid still, welcoming the darkness, his eyes heavy, blank, whilst his mind, finally, drifted into that familiar place it knew best. 

Al-Haitham tried to remember if there was ever one night that didn’t go like this. One night when he wasn’t too tired to feed himself, one night when his body didn’t deny him of sleep, one night when the silence wasn’t so so lonely. 

Nothing came to his mind. It had been like this since forever, as if both his mind and body were constantly draining him of life, making him so... out of himself. 

Al-Haitham could barely hold this feeling of weariness. His eyelids would barely stay open, his head, especially between his eyes, would persistenly pulse, his bones would ache even if he was lying down on his mattress. His ears would slightly ring.  

He felt miserable. 

It was in that silence that his heart mourned, with tears flowing down his face, his shoulders trembling, his breathing frantic as his hand pressed against his mouth, trying to muffle the sobs he couldn’t control. 

Al-Haitham tried to remember, but he couldn’t, because there was never one night that didn’t go like this. 

He finally got up and walked barefoot towards his bathroom. 

He stood in front of the mirror, the light dim as it was coming from the only lamp above. Once again, it was not him who was blinking back at him. This person had his same mint eyes and orange pupils, his same grey hair, his same pale face... even so, Al-Haitham felt detached, as if he wasn’t there. As if he was looking through a blurried cloud. 

Had he always felt this way? When had this started? Al-Haitham tried to remember, but his mind was elsewhere. He had already figured how absent he was from his own life ─ every day meddled into the next, months passed by in an instant ─ one day he was wearing a scarf and the next one his jacket was too warm to lay on his shoulders. 

Sometimes he would think back of what he had been up to the week prior, other times he would think of how he had spent the previous few months. But there was nothing at all that his memory could hold. 

This routine he had set for himself had carried him into a spinning labyrinth to which he couldn’t find the exit of. It was slowly destroying him, tearing each nerve of his brain apart, expectant of the day he would lose his Self. Still, he would rather convince himself that this was okay. That this was how he was going to live forever because this was how he was born. 

He sighed, tired. If only he was strong enough to cease all his anguish at once. 

He washed his hands, then his face, the water cold against his skin. While he was drying himself with a towel, he rubbed his tongue against his teeth. 

His mouth felt disgusting. It was almost like he could feel each bacteria that had formed inside due to his negligence, the bacteria his father warned him about when he was little. It had been so long since he last took care of his hygiene that his gums were constantly throbbing now, the ache touched each one of his rotten teeth, his tongue warm as it pressed into his cheek. 

Perhaps it was time to clean them after all. 

He sighed again as he reached for his almost new toothbrush, though he had owned it for some years now. He squeezed the paste on it, not sure if it had expired, and started brushing the teeth he was just looking at. 

The stranger stared back at him. 
That was enough for the day. 

Al-Haitham walked outside now, all his classes had ended half an hour ago, however, instead of going right back to his room, he had decided to buy groceries for the coming days. 

He had tried his best not to do it the whole day, he really did, but the desire to observe, and maybe to learn, had been too strong: 

For the first time in years, Al-Haitham had walked among people with his head up. 

He had watched students talk, he had watched them laugh, argue ─  he had watched them quietly sit next to each other, and he had seen some hands briefly touch another ─ it had been overwhelmingly beautiful. 

So beautiful that his heart had ached with yearn ─ oh, how he longed to have such thing too ─ to have someone to listen to, to have someone to hold, and maybe to have someone to love. His heart agonized, why, why, why ─   

...Why not him? 

Suddenly, he felt paralyzed in the middle of the crowd. He had reached the busiest place of Sumeru City: its main market street. It was early afternoon and the sun shone above him, in the clear sky, and there was a gentle breeze which brushed his cheeks, warming them even. It was a nice day. 

But the turmoil inside him didn’t stop, not even during a day so lovely. 

People have people, he thought.  

People have people, but I have no one. Does that mean that I am not “people”?  

People have people, but I have no one, thus I am not “people”. I cannot be people, nor will I ever be people, as I’ll never have people.  

Al-Haitham couldn’t bear it anymore and turned back home, quickly, away from the people , those perfect beings he would never be capable of imitate, as tears finally spilled from his eyes. He guessed he wasn’t going to eat that week. 

When he reached his dorm his chest felt so heavy that he couldn’t keep standing anymore, so he lied down, again, on top of the dirty covers of his bed, as he kept weeping and weeping, soaking his pillowcase, recalling each moment of humans’ lives he had witnessed earlier. 

Humans were born to be around other humans. It was an unwritten law of the Universe, declared naturally amongst themselves. No wonder it didn’t concern him: he was not one after all. 

Why wasn’t he? Earlier that day, he had seen all kind of smiles, eyes, hand gestures. He had seen smiles so wide, smiles so timid, smiles so curt. He had seen eyes so soft, others so stern, others so bored. He had seen all kinds of funny movements from people’s hands ─ he was not sure what their meanings were at all. 

But had they left him mesmerized. 

He thought of how everyone in this world lived their lives: everyone had reasons, a purpose to live for, passions, that they would do anything to achieve ─ desires, a longing for something or someone. 

Everyone had everything Al-Haitham would never have. 
If only he, too, were a human. 

Al-Haitham kept thinking until the sun went down the horizon and the darkness of the night held him in his cries once again, its silence being his only witness. 

It was right before he fell asleep that he figured the third certainty of his life: he would never have people. 

Al-Haitham woke up.  

Al-Haitham didn’t dream that night because Al-Haitham never dreamed at night. He had neither passions nor goals after all, his mere existence was settled on a road he has had no say in deciding, what would someone like him possibly dream of? He spent his days locked inside his own dorm room, stuck in his own thoughts and silence, waiting for the shorter clock’s hand to point at the number at the bottom so he could just start getting over his school duties. 

Humans didn’t live like this. He knew it very well. Through all the years spent alone, he had eventually come to know that on sunny mornings people liked to meet at the park above the city, and that on chilly evenings they liked to dine out in fancy restaurants. He also knew that on rainy afternoons the Akademiya’s students enjoyed reading quietly at the House of Daena, whether for an exam or for pure self satisfaction. 

What did people dream of? He tried to picture anything, to no avail. How could he possibly imagine something he had never made experience of? Al-Haitham thought that if he were to dream, he would dream of a void chewing on his being, pleased to deprive him of his humanity. 

When was the last time he spoke, he wondered? When was the last time he spoke with a human? His mind remembered his parents. Had it been really that long? He had last seen them before coming to the Akademiya, since then, years ago, he had received no letter nor gift. Not even on his birthdays. Indeed they were happy that the burden they had put into the world was finally out of their lives. 

Al-Haitham would never be a human if he lacked of the very experiences that made humans... simply themselves. It was as easy as that, yet, to Al-Haitham, it was all a blank puzzle he would always be too clueless to put together. 

He sighed. There was no point in denying it anymore. Whilst his mind wished to welcome the reality he had created for himself, his heart craved for something more. For someone more. 

Al-Haitham, perhaps, had a dream after all: to be a person capable of having someone. 

The warmth of a touch, the care of an embrace, the adoration of a kiss.  

Al-Haitham looked outside the window, and oddly, for once, it wasn’t three in the morning. The faint ray of sunshine that warmed his cheek proved otherwise. Had he slept a few hours more or had he fallen asleep later than usual? Which part of his routine had changed this night? 

Yet, instead of worrying, Al-Haitham felt numb. In his chest there was an empty hole, waiting to be filled, which had dulled his senses. Even so, his heart kept beating faster and faster, protesting against its fate, yet an empty shell was he, his body had given up everything it had. 

He asked himself how would people spend the nights. Would they sleep alone? Or would they share their beds with those they love? Would they read a book, or would they listen to music, unable to hold the silence of loneliness? 

The chirp of a Dusk Bird suddenly freed him from his thoughts. 

He wasted no time in his bed anymore. The same blankets that had often hugged him warmly were making him feel caged now. It was suffocating. 

He reached the bathroom and stopped in front of the mirror that loved so to deceive him, the floor tiles cold under his feet. He turned on the light above, and suddenly, he saw his Self before him. 

This was his face, one he hadn’t seen in too long. 
This was his grey hair, his tinted cheeks, his red lips, his aquiline nose, his... no, not his eyes. 

He sighed deeply. Though this person was really himself, his mind was still not present. It was watching from somewhere far, away, through an endless mist of clouds. 

He observed the eyes, these mint eyes, swollen red. Their eyelids wouldn’t fully open, too exhausted were they, lifeless. He wouldn’t blink, fearing that if he did, even for just one millisecond, he’d be replaced by a stranger again.  

He looked at his hair, it was so greasy it hurt his scalp. He even tried to press down his hand on it ─ only for an uncomfortable itch to seep into his head. It didn’t stop when he ran his fingers through his strands nor when he gathered them in his two hands. The only brief comfort came from scratching his head with his nails. 

When he had looked at people, they all looked clean. He didn’t see one walk along others with greasy hair, a damp body, or dirty clothing. Yet his own hygiene was something he had always struggled to mantain. 

How could people do it so effortlessy?  

If he were to wash himself, would he feel a bit human, too, then? 

Thus Al-Haitham moved towards his shower. It was tiny and it would close and open with two sliding glass doors. He moved them and stretched out his hand to turn on the water, setting it warm. As it immediately started to pour down from the shower head, Al-Haitham stepped back and stripped himself of his clothes, one by one, somewhat in a rush. 

He hissed the moment the water hit his body. It was finally his very own he was cleaning, but alas, how he wished it wasn’t. 

His body was too thin ─ he could see and feel his protruding bones of his ankles, hips and wrists. It was so pale, and red, with some purple and yellow marks. What an ugly body, he thought. 

A body good for nothing. It had failed to fulfill every desire he had put his heart into, starting very early in life. Back then, he had asked and asked without ever receiving anything, thus with time, he had stopped asking at all. He had come to learn to accept whatever was given to him, even now, as he spent every single day inside the same four walls, he had come at peace with the life he did not want for himself. 

His was nothing but a faulty body, an unique mistake of the Universe. Born flawed from the source, there was no way of changing his very core. He had tried, Al-Haitham really did, however, every attempt had been pointless: as a result Al-Haitham started to believe that this body was the first to blame for his inability of being around humans. 

How ironic was it all: the Universe, the very one primordial being that had created countless of lives in such majestic forms and reasons, eventually had made one irreparable mistake when it shaped him. 

Thus now he was left with this: a body unable to hold itself upright, a body unable to stop scratching at its own forearms, a body unable to look at itself in the mirror without expressing its nausea. 

The water running from the shower was hot against his skin yet it was not warming him. His heart had become too numb now, too cold, it had finally detatched from its Self, and his brain cheered as it had reached its ultimate goal. 

He was left with nothing now. Oh, how he wished to cry his eyes out, how we wished to scream, how he wished to rebel against the Universe, to destroy it with his own two hands and nails ─ to claw at it and lacerate its whole essence, piece after piece, and earn a satisfied vengeance against the cruelty that had made him the way he was. His heart had this final wish before succumbing to a nameless void ─ his mind and body refusing to accomplish, denigrating the only thing that had kept Al-Haitham exhaling this whole time.  

Everything was pointless now. 

So Al-Haitham swallowed everything inside of him, keeping it sealed below his stomach, as a reminder for any time his convictions would falter and would start hoping for a change again. To think he had been proved the same one thing over and over, yet, he had still dared to dream. His brain laughed at him. 

He hastily scrubbed both his hair and skin, then he let the water wash the sins of his flawed being away. Maybe taking his life was really the only way of freeing himself from his unfair fate. 

Al-Haitham now looked at his clean form in the mirror. He suddenly choked on his breath and fell to the floor. He curled up on himself, hugging his knees as he trembled. His hands both in tight fists trying to stop themselves from shaking, his head down against his arms and his throat keening. 

That was his final decision. He would murder his own body ─ letting its eyes surrender forever to the darkness, as there was no light they had ever seen. Letting its limbs remain forever inert, as there was no reason they had ever ran for. 

Letting its skin become forever cold, as there was no warmth it had ever felt.  

The reason was one, and one only: 

Humans had dreams. He did not have one. 
Humans had feelings. He did not have one. 
Humans had bodies. He did not have one. 

Humans had humans.  

This is how he was born ─ and nothing was ever going to change that.

Al-Haitham sat at one of the huge desks inside the House of Daena, after borrowing some books to complete a research assigned by one of his professors, which was due the coming week. 

He had always found this library to be simply beautiful . The dove grey marbles that contoured the whole hall and the tall shelves, the lotus lamps hanging above the wooden desks, and the clear skylight glass on the high ceiling which reflected the sun’s light across the room. Al-Haitham used to stop to gaze at it whenever he could, his once heart captivated by all the delicated decorations. But today, Al-Haitham had only grabbed the books he needed and started working right away, never looking around himself once. 

It had been a few days since his heart had stopped feeling, infact, Al-Haitham did not care. He intended on concluding the school year before seeking his liberation, when most students would leave their dorms, so he could abandon this body with as much peace as possible. 

From his peripheral vision, he suddenly saw someone with a white vest stop to stand in front of him, against his desk. He decided to ignore them, thinking that their action was just a careless mistake. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he heard the person softly ask. He recognized them to have a masculine voice now, still, Al-Haitham decided not to look up, hoping that the question was meant for someone else.  

“Can you hear me? Are you okay?” the person slightly bent forward and pressed his right hand against the desk, in front of Al-Haitham, who bolted away and hit the back of his chair, startled, and looked up to see who was the person minding him, with wide eyes. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I saw you from afar and couldn’t help worrying if you were doing okay...” the person trailed off, uncertainty written on his face. 

A pretty face, his intrusive brain suddenly told him. This stranger had peculiar ruby red eyes that observed him with a hint of something Al-Haitham couldn’t quite understand. Thinking of it later, Al-Haitham figured that it was compassion what those ruby eyes had often offered him back then. 

While he parted his lips to answer, Al-Haitham realized that his throat had been tight. So he briefly coughed, his eyes fugitive as he finally used his voice. “I’m okay” he spoke quietly, unfamiliar with its sensation, the hands on his thighs clasping around each other nervously. 

The stranger looked thoughtful before slowly mumbling.  

“I can feel it, honestly.” 

Al-Haitham didn’t know what to say then, which left the other to pull back from the desk and speak again. 

“My name is Kaveh. Yours is...?” 

He reflected before answering ─ “I am Al-Haitham”. 

He was silently reading against the trunk of a tree when a dried cedar leaf landed on top of the wood pulp pages tinted of black ink, distracting him from his train of thoughts. 

He sighed as he took the dead leaf between his fingers, just to let it fall again beside him. While he did so, he took one more glance at the scenery around him: the green grass was completely hidden by a coat of leaves of brown, orange, and purple colours, and many more were whirling in the air, meeting each other with graceful flutters. They danced so alive despite being lifeless ─ having been ripped from their source of life, their stem. He had always been fond of this autumnal atmosphere, thus, when he had noticed the weather wasn’t too cold to stay outside, he had grabbed his lighter coat and walked to the quietest garden of the Akademiya to sit under a tree and be at peace with the silence, perhaps, for a last time. 

However, the tranquility he had planned for himself didn’t last long. 

“Haitham!” he heard someone call him. He didn’t have to guess who it was ─ after meeting a few times, the other had already picked a surname for him. Al-Haitham didn’t mind. 

He moved his gaze to the blonde who was running towards him, his fast steps crunching the curled leaves. He was wearing casual clothes ─ a white shirt and a crimson jacket with golden ornaments over his shoulders ─ and a smile on his lips. This one always seemed happy to see him, something Al-Haitham couldn’t understand. 

“What are you doing here all alone?” Kaveh questioned, as he finally stopped in front of the other, evident surprise in his voice. He didn’t know Al-Haitham had been alone his whole life. 

“I actually planned to be here today” he simply replied, tilting his head down to look back at the book against his knees. 

“Uh... but it’s completely empty and silent here. Surely it can’t do good”  

“I’m used to the silence. It brings me comfort” Al-Haitham wasn’t lying, after all, it was the only thing he knew. 

“Well, if that’s what you’re used to” Kaveh finally sat next to him, placing an hand on the pages of the book Al-Haitham was holding “Then I want you to hear me. Let me speak to you, I have tons to tell you about.”

It was cold, but were the stars beautiful. 

The roof of the dorms of the Akademiya was a place Al-Haitham had recently found, one night, while he was wandering in the hallways, unable to find rest. The ground was a bit littered, surely it was a known place among the students, except no one would go up there during winter. 

The past weeks he had started to explore the world around himself: he had been at the park on top of the city, in the dining hall of the Akademiya, and even back to the market place he had once ran from. He couldn’t care anymore. 

So every night since then he had climbed the stairs to sit up here and gaze at the stars dazzling in the infinite sky. They were... beautiful. Al-Haitham couldn’t find a better word. 

He started to wonder if he would become a star, too, once he would die. To be this mesmerizing ─ shining with pure celestial light, looking after Gaea and her living beings, and be there for them whenever they would feel lonely. Mourning as they would mourn, laughing as they would laugh, holding them as they would wander into the land of dreams. 

This was something Al-Haitham wished for.  

“Oh, hello to you, too” a familiar voice distracted him, making him turn to look at who was now standing behind him, with his arms folded and his face masked by the murk around them both. 

“Kaveh” he simply called the other, surprise visible in his eyes. 

“So you like to stargaze, uh?” Kaveh took place beside him. Al-Haitham noticed that he was carrying a blanket with him, its vibrant colour blackened by the dark. “But aren’t you cold here? Grab this, so we can share” a warmth then engulfed his legs, fluffy under his touch. 

“I could ask the same to you...” Al-Haitham mumbled, awkward, as he pulled Kaveh’s blanket towards himself. Even if the two had been frequently coming across each other, Al-Haitham still felt out of place staying next to Kaveh. Next to a human. 

A part of him feared that if the other were to discover his nature ─ his ugly and defective nature ─ he would leave and never look back. But then, his mind would ask him ─ Why do you even care?  

Kaveh laughed ─ “You’re right. I often come here during the summer, but tonight, I had a feeling I had to. Looks like you were my feeling.”  

“I was simply thinking” he vaguely confessed, unsure of talking. It was Kaveh who spoke the most in their conversations ─ in his own conversations, perhaps. 

“May I ask what about?” Kaveh was now looking at him, curious, his eyes glinting under the myriads of lights that sparkled above them.  

“I was dreaming, maybe. Just now, I thought of a very weird dream. I wish to be a star.” 

“A star? How come?” 

“I think the stars are looking after us. They watch us every night, every day ─ when the sky is clear, and when the sky is clouded. They’re always there, shining above us. And why would they, if not to witness our sorrows and to listen to our cries? If not to guide us through their light? I can’t help feel like that this is their purpose after all.” he sighed. He couldn’t tell Kaveh that he believed neither the stars had pity for him ─ and that their eyes were meant to look at humans, only. 

Kaveh kept silent for a while, reflecting over the other’s words. 

“So you wish to be a star... to take care of humans?” 

“No” Al-Haitham quickly replied, afraid to let his heart speak, aware that he was denying what he was truly wanting. 

Kaveh softly laughed, turning his head back to the sparkling lights. “It’s a peculiar dream, a comforting one. If you wish to take care of others... then perhaps you’re just like me.” He looked back at Al-Haitham with a smile on his face. “Do you have any other dreams, Haitham?” 

“I don’t think so. I don’t think I’ve ever had a dream at all before.” 

Kaveh raised his brows “Hm? Never? Come on, children are always dreaming, there must’ve been something you wanted when you were little.” 

“No, I... I did not” he softly spoke, his head was now hanging low, his hands were tightly clasping the blanket on his thighs. He didn’t want Kaveh to know of his life ─ if he were to know, he would ─ 

“Alright. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you” Kaveh apologized with half a smile, concerned by the other’s reaction. 

Some minutes passed in silence. The question of his childhood had surfaced too many memories in Al-Haitham’s mind, painful ones, that his heart started cracking. He had told himself he wouldn’t let it feel anymore ─ so why had a mere word turned him this way again?  

If Kaveh were to know, he would leave him. He would leave him and never look back ─ and he would go back to the loneliness he had once known.  

Even so, his heart fought to open itself, to let someone know of the despair it had went through its whole lifetime. But his mind, once again, denied its wish. It told the heart that Al-Haitham was not a human ─ he had no right in bothering one with his silly stories. 

But then an hand pressed against his back ─ sharing its warmth, soothing Al-Haitham through circular movements. His heart shattered ─ impotent against what was twisting inside of it. 

“I just wanted to be loved” his voice quavered, as pained tears started soaking his lashes. “I just wanted my parents to love me, but my mother was always busy counting her debts, and my father only wanted me to do well and follow rules. I spent every night wondering what had I done wrong” 

“Nothing, Haitham. What wrong could a child possibly know of?” 

“But they detested me!” Al-Haitham cried, his body shaking, the reassuring face in front of him blurried. “Everything I did was never enough. Do you know how many times I asked them to hold me? How many times I asked them to ─ just ─ play with me and my stupid toys? Yet they never cared. They never loved me.”  

Al-Haitham was now sobbing against the blanket on his knees, the hand against his back never stopped comforting him. 

“Love from a parent is not the only one out there” Kaveh’s voice was gentle, too gentle, it made Al-Haitham question if he was deserving of it at all. No one had spoken to him in such way before. “I promise you, someone will love you very soon.” 

Al-Haitham sniffled and shook his head. “There is nothing to love about me” he faintly confessed, too overwhelmed to think properly. 

“Maybe you don’t see it” the hand then moved upwards, stroking the grey hair through its strands as he spoke. “Let’s keep dreaming, Haitham. Let me dream with you.”  

And lastly, Al-Haitham felt a light weight press on his shoulder.  

Thus this was what the stars were witnessing: Kaveh and Al-Haitham warming each other during the cold of a winter night, one with his head on the other’s shoulder, dreaming of love; the other accepting the touch, dreaming of death, as they both waited for the sun to rise from its sleep. 

“Haitham? Why are you here?” 

The House of Daena was usually empty at this time of the night, so Kaveh had assumed to be the only one still studying there. It was unexpected to find Al-Haitham sitting at his usual desk, with a huge book open between his arms and a faint light to illuminate it.  

And was Al-Haitham exhausted ─ he had been there for eight hours at least. 

“Let’s go to sleep, Haitham, I don’t even want to know for how long you’ve been here.” Kaveh sighed, and scratched his eye, his shoulders relaxing. He also needed to let his bones rest. 

“No, I need to study. I have an exam in a few weeks.” Al-Haitham refused with a shake of his head. He had to, he couldn’t let down his father again, knowing well of how pointless it was, as he was soon to leave this world, once for all, however ─ there was this feeling which he couldn’t pull off himself.  

Both his mind and body were paralyzed into a spiral of helplessness as the light at the end of it was nowhere in sight. Yet, he refused to let his body rest until he had completed his task. But then an hour had passed, then another, and another ─ and he was still there: perpetually skimming over the same sentence, without grasping anything of its content. His mind was completely blank. 

The cold of the library wasn’t making it any better. His eyelids were shutting, his bowed head was throbbing against his supporting hands ─ his wrists barely able to hold it up any more. His back was aching and his stomach needed substance ─ but he sat still, not even taking a glance at who had found him in this state. 

“Come on, we both know it’s useless to study so early” Kaveh gestured the other to get up from his chair with a yawn. “Come with me, you can rest in my room. I’ll carry your book, just let me take care of you.”

The winter holidays had long passed and the students who had left the dorms to visit their hometowns were long back, and so was the atmosphere at the Akademiya: students running to their classes knowing they couldn’t miss it for the upcoming final exams, students chatting with each other during meals ─ their noises created a single tune of overlapped voices, which Al-Haitham didn’t hate anymore. 

Regardless, winter spared no warmth for no one ─ yet humans payed no mind to its coldness. Al-Haitham had seen many happily talking in the dead gardens of the Akademiya, with an umbrella in their gloved hands and a scarf around their necks.  

It was comforting knowing that despite everything, Gaea still gyrated around the sun, and the sun still shone over human’s lives. 

Al-Haitham had preferred staying indoors, worrying about the ending session of the school year. He knew well what that meant: his death was nearing. 

He was not sure how to feel about it. A part of him kept reminding him that this was what he had been awaiting for his whole lifetime, the cession of all his pain as his first and last joy. 

The other part, however, cried, begged to hold on ─ it made him remember of Kaveh ─ asking him, how would he feel? Isn’t he someone you finally have, too?  

But Al-Haitham denied ─ he was not a human ─ he could never be like one. 

He peeked at Kaveh, who was sharing his bed with him. He was quietly drawing with a carbon pencil in his hand and a sketch book against his leg. He had often seen Kaveh’s drawings ─ they pictured architecture, realistic buildings meant for Sumeru’s people, with green roofs and stone walls ─ or fantastic ones, meant for Kaveh’s world only, perhaps, with waterfalls running down the roofs and flowers walls instead of stone ones. Al-Haitham didn’t really understand his friend’s ideas ─ one thing he was sure of, is that they were admirable. 

He decided to get up from the bed and move towards the round mirror that Kaveh used to ornate his gold hair ─ sometimes he wore fancy ribbons or pins, other times he preferred something simplier, such as plain hair clips or ties. Al-Haitham's favorite were the red clips he would messily attach at the back of his head, often crossing them together. 

As he stood in front the mirror, though, every sweet memory of Kaveh vanished into twisting flashes of a dead body ─ its mauve lips faintly shaking, its vitreous eyes, once of a vivid mint and orange, rapidly moving from side to side ─ Al-Haitham understood that such sickening and rotten meat would’ve been him ─ soon. Too soon. 

The realization of what was coming formed a pit of anxiety and nausea above and below his stomach ─ he would die soon. He would finally stop breathing in the unfair body that had caused him nothing but misery ─ he would be happy, finally, as he would take his last breath. Everything he could have possibly asked for. 

...So why was he crying? 

He raised an hand towards his cheek ─ only to find it wet of tears, flowing from his mint lights and down his flushed face. He was franticly panting now, his fingers and body were trembling as he held himself against the wall. 

He thought of Kaveh ─ how he dreaded showing this to him. Him, who always appeared cheerful and gentle, as well along others ─ Al-Haitham had believed that was simply how the blonde was like, but, Kaveh would spend his meals eating alone if Al-Haitham wasn’t there to eat with him, Kaveh would study by himself if Al-Haitham wasn’t there to study with him. 

Al-Haitham didn’t understand. His body had showed him countless of times of how inadequate it was to be around humans ─ then why was Kaveh proving him the contrary? Had he been wrong in his judgment? But there was no way ─ his mind wouldn’t lie to him. 

“Haitham?” he turned his head towards Kaveh, who was standing against the doorway, concerned at the sight of him. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m here” he then felt an arm clasp around his back, supporting him before he could fall, as he was walked back to the bed. 

Once settled down on the mattress, Kaveh held him strongly against his chest. He wouldn’t stop shaking, and his tears wouldn’t stop falling. He could hardly breathe, his heart was beating too rapidly for his lungs to keep up ─ the heat around his body was one he had craved for too long. 

“Speak to me” Kaveh initiated, slowly rocking back and forth to console the one in his arms. 

“No” he sniffed as pressed his forehead into Kaveh’s clavicle, his hands grasped the front of his blue sweater, right below his heart, seeking more of the comfort he was being revelled in. “I cannot tell you.” 

“You can” Kaveh held him even tighter, then, and rested his chin on top of his head. “I’ll listen to you, Haitham. Let it all out. You’re not alone.” He whispered and squeezed his shoulder, trying to give Al-Haitham the last strenght he needed to spew everything out of his body ─ all those ugly thoughts and feelings that had devoured him for too long now. 

Could he really tell Kaveh what he had kept hidden his whole life, first to himself, as an attempt to erase its hideous nature? Could he really overcome it ─ and perhaps realize that he had been wrong all along? Why was his heart still hoping ─ if he had let it be destroyed months ago? 

The dread spread even more, now it was seizing his throat ─ keeping it locked so it wouldn’t expose any of the sins of the body, tangled on its cords, eyes wide as he struggled to breathe and his mind obfuscated. Maybe Kaveh was talking to him, he could vaguely feel words next to his ear, but they were too far for him to grasp them. 

Burning black hues exploded before his eyes, blocking his vision, so he squinted to relieve the sting as his mouth and tongue moved on their own, his voice strained as it creaked out words that were not meant to be revealed. 

The body against his suddenly stilled, silent, arms still closed around his torso, as he slowly came back to his senses, drowsy ─ only a mantra could he hear, a promise, a destiny: “I want to die”. The voice was his own. 

Thus he realized and pulled back from the other’s chest ─ his same horror mirrored on Kaveh’s face. It pained him ─ to see such anguish on the usual bright face ─ his brows were raised pitifully, his pretty eyes were tearing up, and his bottom lip was quivering. 

Al-Haitham felt guilt. It was he who had made Kaveh feel this way, his stupid, dumb Self that could do nothing right. Shame pressed heavy on his chest and neck as he moved his gaze to the side, unable to face the consequences of his being ─ if only he hadn’t spoken. He knew already, he did, that now Kaveh would turn his back on him as people had done before. 

What next? Would he simply go back to his lone and self damaging routine he once had, as if nothing had ever happened at all? As if he had never met someone who had made him smile, laugh, someone who had made him feel human despite his faulty nature? What would be of him? 

But then ─ Kaveh raised his hands to cup the other’s face, stroking his thumbs along his cheeks to wipe the tears away, tenderly so, despite crying himself. 

He moved his head closer to press his lips on Al-Haitham's temple, delicate, soft. The touch lingered as he moved back, his arms circled around his back again, sheltering him, afraid to let him go, anchoring him to his Self. “Let me stay with you, Haitham” he rubbed his back, tears dried. “Just... don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right here whenever you need me.” 

Spring finally met the land of Sumeru, like an old friend returning to the homeland. The bare trees were growing back green buds, while Sweet Flowers, Sumeru Roses and Nilotpala Lotuses were blooming back along with the moist green grass and fungis. Bees and wasps were back to pollinate and ants had left their winter homes to start collecting supplies for the next cold season again. 

The air was minty, scented of petals, Al-Haitham felt his lungs refresh as he respired with his eyes closed, serene, the sound of nature happy as it lived.  

The mid-day sky was faintly veiled by wandering clouds painted white by the rays of the sun warming the earth, hugging every being in its light, the lone kitty on the side of the road was content as he rested in it. 

He sat on a bench outside the City of Sumeru, with Kaveh, who had insisted on bringing him there to witness “the first creatures of spring” ─ so he quoted. The atmosphere was really a relaxing one. Al-Haitham was at peace. 

His heart was merry, delighted, full of newfound joy as it beat along the gentle flutters of a bird soaring in the sky ─ for once, his heart felt whole. He observed a yellow butterfly hover in front of him, she circled around a leaf before finally settling on it. He felt happy for the butterfly, the little insect was lucky for living such genuine life. 

He turned his head to gaze at Kaveh, who looked back at him in return. In his eyes there was an expression of such cherish and care not unknown to Al-Haitham ─ if only he wasn’t still afraid to accept its true meaning. 

Looking at it, though, his heart couldn’t help hasten its thumps.  

“You’re happy, aren’t you?” Kaveh chuckled as his lips turned upwards into a timid smile. This time Kaveh had left his hair loose, it fell on his shoulders and back, shiny under the sun. His dangle earrings adorned his face so prettily ─ they were truly made for him. 

Al-Haitham wasn’t sure how to answer. Was he happy? He reflected for a moment. Being around Kaveh had made him more than happy, however, there was an issue which Al-Haitham hadn’t forgot. 

His inhumanity was not meant for this. He was supposed to hide his abnormality from humans, his hideous traits ─ his grey hair, his mint eyes and orange pupils, and his thin body ─ they were not those of a human. He was not a human, thus he was not meant to be around them. 

“I can feel it, you know? I told you the first time we met.” Kaveh’s voice was soothing, honey that flowed towards his heart, mellow, sweet. 

Al-Haitham blinked a few times. Could he? 

Kaveh lowered his head towards the ground, his features changed into one of sadness, his smile pained. “I know how helpless you’ve been feeling. That’s why I approached you that day in the library.” The hands in his laps were rubbing against each other, hesitant. 

He turned back to Al-Haitham, whose eyes had started tearing up. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you so happy. I just want you to keep feeling this way.” 

You are not a human ─ his mind screamed one last time, in vain, because right now Al-Haitham was listening to his heart, finally, opening it to the one who had embraced him ─ he didn’t wish anything else for himself. He just wanted to accept himself for who he actually was ─ not a mistake of the Universe, rather, a person part of it. Just how he was born to be. 

His mind complied. There was nothing else now ─ only the will to hope, to feel. The will to live. 

“I don’t know how to. How can you do it so easily?” he whimpered, exhausted from all the past pain. 

He just wanted to dream, the way humans did. He just wanted to feel, the way humans did. 

“Through love, Haitham.” Kaveh confessed. “There’s only love.” 

“But I don’t know what is love” he cried, hopeful tears flowing down his cheeks. “I’ve never felt it, not even for myself. What is love, Kaveh?” He looked at him, searching for the answer in those ruby eyes. 

He just wanted to love, the way humans did. 

Kaveh held Al-Haitham's hands then, oh, how tender and warm was his touch ─ “Love is the only thing I have. It’s what keeps me awaiting for the next sunrise, the next crescent moon. It’s what I’ll always hold dearly, close to my heart; it’s what nothing and no one will ever rip from me. Let me love you, and you, too, will understand this.” 

With a final tear trembling down his face, Al-Haitham closed his eyes and let his body fall into another, let his mind stray towards the peace it had never known before. 

And lastly, he let his heartbeat blend with the melody of another heart ─ an heart that was humming right beside his. 

Their melody sang of love.  

. 

. 

. 

Al-Haitham woke up. That night, he had a beautiful dream. He was basking under the sun’s hearth, its rays buzzed on his skin, tenderly, as the wind held his body in a caring breeze. He was resting in the middle of a dandelion field, watching the flowers sway, back and forth, while his lover brushed his warm lips against his.  

He smiled softly as he reminisced under the cosy blankets he was sharing with his adored one, Kaveh, whose heart was rhythmically pacing below his ear. Al-Haitham couldn’t ask for anything more than to have him embrace his body for the whole night, tightly, with his chin rested on his forehead, where he had left some kisses before they had both welcomed their dreams. 

He looked outside and, as he expected, the sun was already gleaming in the morning sky, shading the room and the furniture of deep golden lights. 

Al-Haitham rested for a while more before rising from Kaveh’s chest and stepping out of the bed to walk towards his bathroom. He looked at his messy hair in the mirror, fixing them poorly with one hand, then he turned on the water to refresh his hands and face ─ he remembered how, barely a year ago, this task alone took so much effort to accomplish. 

Next he brushed his teeth, picking his toothbrush from the pair that were leaning against each other in an extravagant mug on top of the sink. His teeth and gums had improved over the months. They did not hurt as much as they did before nor they did not look as bad. 

His body, too, had become healthier. Its paleness had turned into a rosy colour, especially along his cheeks, and he had gained a bit of weight and muscles. It had been a difficult process, but Kaveh had supported him during it all. 

He still had a long way to go, but Al-Haitham was already proud of himself. It was not a stranger who was watching him in the reflection anymore, no, he was him, his Self, just Al-Haitham. 

His grey hair, his mint eyes and orange pupils, his sharp face. His body. 

The other appeared from the other room and walked towards Al-Haitham. He hugged him from the side and rested his cheek on his shoulder, facing the mirror, where the both of them now appeared, close to each other. 

“I love you.” Kaveh murmured, his voice rasp from sleep and his ruby eyes squinted as he looked at Al-Haitham. “You’re beautiful” he added, happiness on his lips. “I love your soft grey hair, your minty eyes and orange pupils. Aren’t they like a warm fire flickering inside of you, calmed by the harmony of mint? I love your body, now the home for all your happy thoughts. And I love you for who you are ─ your laugh and silence, your dreams and loss, your tears and your love. It’s what makes us humans.” 

Al-Haitham softly smiled, his heart and mind joyed knowing well that he was right. He had become a human. 

A kiss met his lips, then ─ “I love you too, Kaveh.”