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When Kaveh returns from his desert expedition, he returns with a worn, tattered look on his face, disheveled clothes, sand stuck stubbornly to the sweat-slicked skin behind his knees, and a tiny hand in his hold.
“Welcome home,” Alhaitham says distractedly, staring in contemplation at the child next to Kaveh.
The child looks like an exact but smaller copy of Kaveh – vibrant red eyes gleaming with wondrous curiosity, the same long lashes, and the characteristically unruly blonde hair, clumsily held back by two red clips that appear too large for the child’s head. When Kaveh turns around briefly to set his bags down, Alhaitham notices two red clips missing from his own hair.
Kaveh sighs, “I can explain.” He lets go of the child’s hand hastily, and the child makes a noise of surprise, staring in subdued silence at Kaveh’s back as he flops onto the couch with his head dropping into Alhaitham’s lap.
“Ah, you can sit somewhere there, if you’d like,” Kaveh gestures to the child, and the young boy shuffles onto the couch beside them.
“Is there… something you haven’t told me about your past?” Alhaitham says, observing the child’s nervous mannerisms as he runs a hand through Kaveh’s hair. Kaveh has the back of a hand over his eyes in the way he often does when he’s either deep in thought or feeling the onset of an upcoming headache. “A prior relationship that resulted in your offspring?”
“What? No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Kaveh’s eyes dart to the side, glancing at the child, before promptly looking away. “There was an incident in the desert. The team I was with stumbled upon one of King Deshret’s old domains somewhere far into the ruins, and it was one of those obscure domains that tampers with time and space. We were able to escape after a few hours without any major injuries, but the domain has a unique ability to summon forth a version of you from the past.”
The child is peering around the living room, his attention transfixed as he shifts around in his seat to analyze the ceilings, the walls, and the hallway. Regardless, his back is strung tight with tension, and the gaping wonder in his eyes remains shrouded by a sense of uncertainty. He looks very young and afraid, Alhaitham notes.
“In other words, that’s…”
“Yes,” Kaveh sighs once again, turning to bury his face against Alhaitham’s abdomen. “In other words, that child is me from the past.”
“Is it permanent?”
“Archons, no. The summoning won’t hold for long now that we’re outside of the domain. We went to Lord Kusanali before returning home, and she said that this younger version of me should return back to his own timeline in a few weeks or so. Any memory of his little escapade into the future will be erased too once he returns.”
Kaveh still has his face concealed, hands tugging flimsily at the hem of Alhaitham’s loose shirt. Much to Alhaitham’s chagrin, whenever he wears looser clothing at home, Kaveh has developed a ridiculous habit of crawling under the shirt and resting his face against Alhaitham’s chest. There’s a meager voice in the back of his mind telling him to push Kaveh off before the man is tempted to try it again. Still, at this proximity, he clearly notices the dreadful bags under Kaveh’s eyes and the way his breathing is turning slow and weary, and Alhaitham finds that he doesn’t have the heart to do so.
Instead, he carefully tucks a hand under Kaveh’s head before he moves to the side and replaces his lap with one of the couch pillows. Kaveh makes a short whine of protest but quickly sinks into the pillow.
“At least take care of your own mess and bags before you take a nap,” Alhaitham chides, though his tone is devoid of any true irritation. “And don’t forget to bathe – you stink.”
“Hngh.” (Meaning, "Yeah, yeah.")
Free from Kaveh’s grasp, Alhaitham steps towards the child – towards the younger, smaller Kaveh – and kneels in front of him to speak at eye level. This younger Kaveh has yet to grow into the skin and blazing confidence of the genius architect he eventually becomes, scrawny limbs lacking any of the sun-kissed scars that Alhaitham’s Kaveh carries from frequently working outside with building materials, but there is a touch of brilliance in that wide-eyed stare, like the yearning of flames licking at its confines.
“Hello,” Alhaitham says. “My name is Alhaitham.”
“Hello,” the younger Kaveh responds, voice muffled as he speaks from where his face is tucked timidly into drawn-up knees. “...I’m Kaveh.”
“I know. I’m sure you heard all the things that Big Kaveh was saying earlier, right?”
“Yes,” he nods. “I don’t understand everything yet, but I know that I’m somewhere in the future, and the Dendro Archon said I’ll be able to go home to my parents again soon if I behave well.”
“That’s correct. You may think of this as a temporary excursion into the future, but know that you are in good hands,” Alhaitham reaches for one of the child’s hands, rubbing soothing circles into his palm in the same way that his Kaveh finds relaxing. “Can I call you Little Kaveh to avoid any confusion with the other, older Kaveh?”
“Sure,” Little Kaveh begins to unfold himself from the tight ball of nervous tension he was in previously, voice tinged with curiosity. “Do you live here too, Mr. Alhaitham?”
“I do, and you may just call me Alhaitham. I am married to Big Kaveh, and this is our house where we live together.”
“Woah,” Little Kaveh breathes out, expression flushed with awe. “I get to marry you in the future? And live in this nice house with you? Future me is really lucky. You’re so pretty and cool, Alhaitham.”
A fleeting smile finds its way to Alhaitham’s lips, “And I am equally as fortunate to have the future you in my life.”
“I hope…” Little Kaveh starts, then swallows, “I hope that I can be good to you in the future, just like how Father is good to Mother and makes her smile everyday.”
“Do not worry, you are good to me. I wouldn’t have married you otherwise,” Alhaitham peeks at where Kaveh is resting on the couch, his frame rising and falling in a steady rhythm. “Little Kaveh, how old are you?”
Raising his arm, Little Kaveh proudly stretches five fingers in front of Alhaitham’s face, “I’m five!”
“And your mother and father live with you in your home?”
“Yes! Mother is a famous architect and Father works at the Akademiya. They’re both really amazing and smart.”
Alhaitham nods earnestly, digesting the facts of the situation. This younger Kaveh is currently five-years-old, and he comes from a time in which his father is still alive and his mother is still present with him in Sumeru. It is, arguably, the most idyllic point in Kaveh’s life, far before anything was upheaved. Perhaps this was done intentionally by the domain to draw out the part of him that he longs for the most. It is not unheard of for domains to delve into people’s minds and desires.
“You look tired and sweaty,” he says to Little Kaveh, moving to stand. “How would you like a bath while Big Kaveh rests?”
Little Kaveh hops off his seat to obediently trail after him, “I’d like that. Thank you.”
As they walk towards the hallway with Little Kaveh’s hand enveloped in Alhaitham’s larger, warmer one, Alhaitham momentarily glances back to check on his Kaveh. On the couch, Kaveh appears to remain napping peacefully, facing away from them and towards the windows where the sunlight slivers in smoothly. Alhaitham recognizes, however, that Kaveh isn’t truly sleeping and is very much awake; he’s known the man long enough to tell when he’s faking slumber. Gingerly, he files away a thought to consider later once he’s helped Little Kaveh settle in.
Throughout the entire time since he passed the threshold of the door into their home, Kaveh did not look his younger self in the eye, not even once.
Somehow, Little Kaveh falls seamlessly into his new daily life with Alhaitham and his older self. They’ve repurposed Kaveh’s old bedroom into a guest bedroom for Little Kaveh, and it’s not like Kaveh uses it as anything more than extra storage space since they got together again.
Alhaitham finds more and more of his evenings after work occupied with accompanying the child, whether it’s in the study as he reads some of his less esoteric books to Little Kaveh or in the living room as he watches Little Kaveh quietly play with some of the old block puzzles Kaveh found buried deep in the belongings he’d brought from his old family house.
Little Kaveh is a relatively well-mannered child. He doesn’t kick up too much of a fuss when left alone, and he’s surprisingly adept at keeping himself entertained. Alhaitham suspects this is due to his upbringing with parents who were both busy with their own work. Moreover, as expected of him, Little Kaveh is naturally inquisitive and evidently gifted. He never hesitates to ask Alhaitham questions when they’re going over a text he doesn’t quite understand, and his questions are increasingly complex, prying for further knowledge beneath seemingly conspicuous statements. It’s absolutely endearing, though Alhaitham would not directly admit this to his Kaveh’s face.
“Alhaitham?” Kaveh calls out from the bedroom, and not too long later, a head of blonde hair pops into view from the hallway. “Still in the study? It’s getting late.”
Alhaitham has Little Kaveh comfortably seated in his lap, legs crossed with his head tucked right under Alhaitham’s chin, as the older man holds out a book in front of them for the child to read. Little Kaveh’s index finger diligently follows after his readings, trailing through each line of words on the pages, and Alhaitham can’t help but notice how his index finger is barely the size of Alhaitham’s thumb.
“Can’t we finish one more chapter, please?” Little Kaveh pouts, turning to peer over Alhaitham’s shoulder at his approaching older self.
Kaveh’s hand falls on his younger self’s head, ruffling the blonde locks gently, before pulling the book out of Alhaitham’s hands, “You’ll keep saying that every time you finish another chapter, and then eventually you’ll be asking to finish the entire book in one go as the sun starts rising outside. Trust me, I know you better than anyone. And I also know Alhaitham best – enough to predict that he would definitely indulge you. Come on now, time for bed.”
“Okay, fine,” he says and allows himself to get picked up into Alhaitham’s arms as he stands up, moving towards the guest bedroom.
Alhaitham turns around when he doesn’t hear a second set of footsteps behind him, “Kaveh?”
“Hm?”
“Are you not coming with me to tuck your younger self in bed?”
Kaveh maintains his focus towards the floor as he picks up the books Alhaitham and Little Kaveh had left lying around in the outcome of their readings. As he reaches down, his bangs tumble over his eyes, once again curtaining them from view, “Uh, maybe another time. You guys go ahead. I’ll clean the study up.”
Later, as Alhaitham pulls the blanket over Little Kaveh’s shoulders, a small hand places itself atop his own, stilling his movements.
“Does Big Kaveh hate me?”
Much like his older self, Little Kaveh’s eyes glow bright even in the darkness of the room, and he’s doing his best to keep his expression stable, even if Alhaitham can see the watery sheen pooling by his bottom lashes. It isn’t the first instance that Kaveh has tried to hide his tears from him, even if it is his younger self this time.
Alhaitham pauses before slowly pushing the child’s hair away from his forehead, “What makes you say that?”
“I think he’s avoiding me. And I can tell when other people try to avoid me. Sometimes, other kids in my neighborhood avoid me because their parents are jealous of Mother. Mother tells me it’s because they’re immature,” he answers, voice growing so meek that Alhaitham has to strain his ears to hear him. “But I don’t think Big Kaveh is immature. To me, he just looks sad.”
Silently, Alhaitham thinks of the day when Kaveh first brought his younger self home with him; how he couldn’t meet the child’s eyes and had such an exhausted visage, as though he’d been carrying much more on his back than simply the bags he returned home with.
“Memories carry a significant weight with them,” Alhaitham tells him, stroking the boy’s cheek, still so soft and young. “Big Kaveh has had a difficult life – partly because of his own strong commitment to his personal ideologies, but also because life in general can often be unpredictable and unkind. You will learn this as you return to your own time and grow older, and you, too, will rise in the face of adversity as he did. But it doesn’t change that you may remind him of a time before he faced such hardship and possibly of the things he’s lost, too.”
“Is it my fault that he’s sad then?” Little Kaveh says, lower lip trembling ever so slightly.
“No, it isn’t your fault. Situations exist in which you merely have to be patient with grown-ups in the same way that you have to be patient with other children. Do you understand?”
“Okay, I understand,” Little Kaveh nods. “Big Kaveh has lost things, right?”
Satisfied with the response, Alhaitham pulls the blanket higher to make sure the child has enough warmth for the night, “Yes, he has.”
“Whenever I lose something, Father likes to tell me that anything lost can always be found again, as long as you don’t give up quickly.”
On the bedside table next to them, there are two framed photographs, distinctly aged and dusty from having been kept untouched in Kaveh’s old bedroom. One is of Kaveh as a young child, not much younger than Little Kaveh now, beaming proudly at the Kamera with a completed block puzzle as both his parents hug him. The other is of Alhaitham as an infant, held in his mother’s arms as his father and his grandmother surround her with tender smiles. Alhaitham’s gaze lingers there for a moment before he turns back to Little Kaveh.
“Sometimes, it’s not that easy.”
Kaveh is always beautiful in the aftermath of sex. As he comes down from his own high, Alhaitham stares upwards, endlessly entranced, at the drop of sweat that glides down the strong curve of Kaveh’s cheek, traveling further past the slant of his jaw, where Alhaitham tilts his head forward to press a swift, delicate kiss of gratitude. The ardent fervor that swirls in Kaveh’s eyes demands that Alhaitham looks at him and him only, and caged by Kaveh’s gaze as well as his arms, Alhaitham obliges, drowning in its heat.
Panting, Kaveh lowers himself and buries his face in the curve of Alhaitham’s neck, “Love… Love you, Haitham.”
Alhaitham reaches up, caressing Kaveh’s nape and absently playing with the strands of hair there as he catches his own breath, “I love you, too.”
The room is silent for a moment, only filled with the hushed sound of their slowing breaths, and the entire world feels like it’s blossoming into being. It’s a sacred warmth that Alhaitham can never grow tired of, and he commits it to memory, over and over and over again.
Once he’s coherent enough, Kaveh peels his eyes open, and Alhaitham can sense his eyelashes brushing against his cheek, solemn and subtle like the start of a confession, “Alhaitham, I–”
“Alhaitham?”
Kaveh immediately shoots up, and within an instant, they both swivel around to look at their bedroom door. The locked door handle rattles multiple times before a quivering, muffled voice filters through, “Alhaitham? Big Kaveh?”
“It’s the kid,” Kaveh groans, his body flopping to the side with exertion. “Thankfully, we locked the door this time. Also, Big Kaveh? I can never get used to him calling me that.”
After numerous close calls, they’ve both learned the importance of locking their bedroom door on certain nights, though it occasionally remains forgotten when they’re too caught up in the moment. Between stressful work and having to surrender some of his precious time with Alhaitham to Little Kaveh, Kaveh finds his libido growing progressively more insatiable.
Alhaitham languidly rolls out of bed and bends to pick up a stray shirt and pants lying somewhere on the floor, wincing at the strain on his lower back as he does so, “It’s not like you have any better suggestions.”
Kaveh snorts quietly but doesn’t retort. Instead, he dutifully shifts to bury himself from sight within the blankets. Hurriedly throwing on whatever clothes he picked up, Alhaitham limps towards the door with shaking legs, trying his best to look as composed as possible. Just as he reaches to unlock it, he takes a glimpse down and realizes he threw on Kaveh’s shirt, the large and obnoxious-looking cartoon lion print glaring right back at him. He sighs and opens the door.
“Alhaitham?” comes the wavering call, and then a sniffle.
Shutting the door behind him, Alhaitham leans down and coaxes Little Kaveh’s face into view. When he touches the little one’s cheek, he feels that they’re damp with tears, “What’s wrong?”
“I–” Little Kaveh hiccups through his tears, “I had a bad dream, and the room felt so dark and lonely.”
“Alright,” taking his hand, Alhaitham gestures towards the guest bedroom. “Come with me. I’ll stay and read to you until you fall asleep.”
It doesn’t take long for Little Kaveh to fall asleep again, previously drained from the tears and comforted by Alhaitham’s presence. By the tenth page, Alhaitham can hear the steady breathing indicating that the child has already fallen asleep. Cautiously and with minimum noise, Alhaitham slips out of the guest bedroom and back into his and Kaveh’s bedroom.
When Alhaitham clicks the bedroom door shut behind him, he discovers Kaveh sitting up in bed, still bare-chested and now wide awake, twiddling gravely with his feather accessory. He has that expression where Alhaitham knows he’s there but not truly present, as if his sharp, inventive mind is drifting some place far away from the walls of this room.
“Something is bothering you,” Alhaitham states without room for questioning, hurling the silly lion-printed shirt somewhere back on the floor as he settles into bed next to Kaveh and places a hand above the other man’s twiddling fingers. “Tell me.”
“...It’s irrational.”
“Weren’t you the one who argued that simply because something isn’t rational doesn’t mean it isn’t important?”
Kaveh scrunches his nose in the way he always does when he knows he’s about to lose an argument. It’s adorable, but it has minimal impact on distracting Alhaitham from the topic of the conversation given that Kaveh has used this tactic many times in the past already. Repeated exposure is a powerful tool for building resilience.
Rather, Kaveh chooses to plunge his head against Alhaitham’s chest, eliciting a quiet ‘oof’ out of him, and hides his face there. Huffing in amusement, Alhaitham cups Kaveh’s cheek and tilts his head in order to speak eye-to-eye. It seems like Alhaitham is going to have to wrench it out of him this time.
“Is this about Little Kaveh?”
“In a way, yes.”
“What is it? You’re typically highly adept with children – they often like you far better than me.”
“That’s true,” Kaveh laughs weakly. “Although, for some reason, you’re much better at stopping their tears. Maybe they get so intimidated by you they just stop crying entirely.”
“Don’t try to change the subject, Kaveh.”
Kaveh lets out a long, drawn-out breath, “But that kid isn’t just any other child. He’s me; or, well, a version of me.”
“Why does that trouble you?” Alhaitham asks, rubbing circles into the palm of Kaveh’s hand. It’s not that he doesn’t have a theory on Kaveh’s answer, but he knows that Kaveh needs to hear himself say it out loud, for his own sake.
“I think,” Kaveh pauses and hesitates for a moment, as if he’s struggling to put his thoughts into spoken words. Against his chest, Alhaitham can feel Kaveh’s heartbeat thrumming faintly in his neck, fragile and forlorn, before Kaveh’s mouth opens to continue.
“I think that some people grow out of their younger selves, and it’s a soft and gentle thing. As in, picture this, they’ll thank their younger selves for the lessons they learned from them, kiss their foreheads in farewell, and send them on their way as they begin to walk the path towards becoming adults. But for others…”
Kaveh sighs, the weight within his ribcage seeping away into the night alongside his breath.
“Perhaps the passing of time isn’t such a soft and gentle thing. For others, in order to live and grow into who we are today, we had to kill our younger selves and erase the parts that we couldn’t bear to look at anymore – the weak, fleshy, and frail parts,” a distant look unravels upon Kaveh’s face as he begins drifting once again, wafting through an ocean of unearthed memories. “The parts that still recognize the scent of Mother’s perfume and the melody of her favorite song when she slow-dances with Father in the living room. The parts that still remember the sound of Father’s laughter and the way Father’s stubble tickles our cheek when he pulls us into a hug. The parts that still smile when we look at ourselves in the mirror.”
Kaveh chuckles, but the sound of it echoes with emptiness, lacking any hints of mirth, “It’s terribly pathetic and ironically childish, isn’t it? I saw my younger self laugh in delight at his reflection as he spun around in front of a mirror the other day, and I hated it. And I hate knowing that he’s going to come back to a home where Mother and Father are still there to welcome him back with open arms, only for him to lose it all not too long later.”
“It is not pathetic nor is it irrational,” Alhaitham says, placing both arms around Kaveh and pulling him out of the depths, breaking the surface with his temperate, even voice. “It’s not easy to look someone in the eye and accept them if you feel responsible for their end.”
“You know, when I used to reminisce about my past, I hated my younger self,” Kaveh whispers. “But now, seeing him right there in front of me, I think I just wish I could remember what it was like to love him.”
“You can start loving him again now.”
“Just like that? It’s not that easy, and you know that.”
“Indeed, it’s not that easy,” Alhaitham lets his fingers fall slack, entwining them in the gaps between Kaveh’s fingers until their hands are pressed close together, palm to palm. “But our love wasn’t easy either, remember? It was difficult and uncomfortable at times, and we hurt each other in the process of learning how to communicate with one another. But ultimately, we still found each other and this love. Wasn’t it worth the difficulty?”
“Of course, it was,” Kaveh says in a trembling voice as he turns to the side. With Kaveh facing the wall, Alhaitham hears a suppressed, nearly imperceptible, sniffle. Some things truly don’t change.
Alhaitham smiles, “And if it is any consolation to you, I love your younger self. He’s a part of you that led you to become who you are today, even if you had to relinquish some parts of him. Therefore, he’s a part of you that led you to me, too.”
“Haitham… stop it, I don’t want my face to be puffy tomorrow morning.”
“When we promised to spend our lives together, we also promised each other that we’d love every part of the other person,” Alhaitham cradles the back of Kaveh’s neck, feeling the wetness around Kaveh’s eyes on his skin. “And I love every part of you, Kaveh. I’ve always loved you regardless of whatever state you were in.”
Kaveh responds wetly, “I love you too, Haitham.”
“I know. Now, won’t you try loving yourself and your younger self as well?”
“Okay,” comes the answer, uttered low and close to his heart like a precious oath. “I’ll try.”
It’s a start, Alhaitham thinks, smirking fondly at the man in his arms and how hopelessly endeared he is to him. He falls asleep that night like so: Kaveh on his chest with slowly drying tears, knowing that tomorrow will be another chance to love. And perhaps that is what the passing of time is – not some soft and gentle thing to kiss in farewell, but rather, the mundane and everyday chance you have to love and to try, again and again.
When Alhaitham stumbles into the living room the next morning, hair gloriously tousled in various directions and still processing the trauma of waking up, he is greeted by the sight of his Kaveh and Little Kaveh sitting together at the table, sharing a bowl of fruit as they pour over one of Kaveh’s designs.
“Glad to see you finally decided to join us,” Kaveh says, grinning but not looking up from his design.
“Morning!” his younger self chirps.
Alhaitham pats Little Kaveh’s head and kisses his Kaveh’s cheek as he strolls past towards the coffee kettle, staggering for a moment at the dull ache in his lower back.
“I’m taking Little Kaveh out into the market today, and I’d like to show him the Palace of Alcazarzaray in the afternoon as well,” Kaveh says from somewhere behind him. “It’s the weekend, so you’re coming with us, Alhaitham. No excuses.”
Little Kaveh giggles, “Yeah! It’s a trip!”
Coffee in hand, he settles into the seat next to Little Kaveh, so that the young boy is encompassed by the two of them on either side, and somehow it feels just right like this – like a moment to be immortalized through a photograph in a frame.
Alhaitham pinches Little Kaveh’s cheek, “Are you really all that excited about going out today? This whole situation is essentially still a trip into the future for you.”
“Yeah, but this time Big Kaveh is the one taking me out! And I get to see the huge palace I’ll build one day! I have to see that before I go back and forget all about this.”
“That so? What did you and Big Kaveh talk about this morning?” Alhaitham glances over at his Kaveh, whose cheeks are growing increasingly flushed.
“He was showing me the designs from his past projects! I can’t believe I’ll grow up to be a super famous architect, just like Mother. Alhaitham, did you know that I’ll be the one to help renovate that big bridge and lighthouse in Port Ormos too? Aren’t I amazing?”
“Yes,” Alhaitham says, and his gaze, ever so honest, is locked straight at his Kaveh, “you are amazing, indeed.”
At the market, Little Kaveh has one hand in his older self’s clasp while his other hand remains held by Alhaitham. The child hums happily as they walk down the street together, arms swinging to the tune of a song only he and Kaveh know. Kaveh buys all the best fruits, snacks, and desserts – all of his favorite ones, just to pamper his younger self, because he knows that his stubborn preferences haven’t changed since his youth. And when they visit a stall with some children’s games available for play, the young owner beams at them.
“Your son is so lovely and smart,” she says. “And he has such an adorable smile!”
“Oh, he’s not…” Kaveh says, trailing off in thought.
Alhaitham steps in, “Thank you. We’re new parents.”
“Oh, congratulations!” she claps her hands together in enthusiasm. “I’m sure your little one has a bright future ahead of him.”
“Yeah,” says Kaveh at last in a soft and small voice, smiling. “I’m sure he does, too.”
That night, once they finished unwinding at home after a long day spent outside, the worn out Little Kaveh falls fast asleep in a matter of seconds, and this time Kaveh is the one who tucks him into bed. When Alhaitham silently stands near the minuscule opening of the unclosed guest bedroom door, out of Kaveh’s view, he sees Little Kaveh snoring quietly as his Kaveh lovingly strokes his younger self’s hair, examining the carefree child sleep in thorough peace.
“I’m sorry for not being kinder to you at the start,” he hears his Kaveh mumble in the darkness to his unconscious younger self. “I have to admit, it was difficult trying to get accustomed to the sight of you. You remind me of everything that I’ve lost and can no longer gain back. And it frightens me a little – to see how big you smile and how loud you laugh. I didn’t know I used to smile like that.”
In the midst of the quiet snores, there’s a lengthy exhale, “I’ve struggled with not knowing how to fully love myself for a long, long time. But, you know, it does get better. And you’ll meet people in your life who will help you learn what it means to be loved and to love in return, wholly and endlessly.” There’s a treasured smile unfurling across Kaveh’s cheeks, and his eyes glimmer like the tender heart of a fireplace, steadily burning into the night.
“Don’t be too trusting of other people, but don’t abandon those in need. And be careful with your money once you learn the mechanisms of debt. Living in debt is miserable, you know. Also, you don’t have to buy three different variations of the same dress shirt to decide which one you like best. Just trust your instincts. And lastly, your life isn’t going to be easy, and sometimes you’ll have to first be strong in order to be kind. But I’m proud of how far you’ll go.”
Alhaitham watches as Kaveh solemnly bows low to press his face close to his younger self, forehead to forehead, and Kaveh says these next words with his eyes closed like a prayer, like a blessing.
“I love you, little me.”
From time to time, Kaveh and his younger self will fall asleep like so, limbs wrapped around one another as Kaveh ends up spending the night in the guest bedroom. Other times, Alhaitham will be the one who accompanies Little Kaveh in his sleep, his arm outstretched for the child to rest his head against. And on a few rare occasions, Little Kaveh will climb into Kaveh and Alhaitham’s bed, burrowing into the space between them and relishing in their warmth.
One night, the three of them settle into the bed together again. It’s a tight fit, and Kaveh has to yank the blanket away from the fierce grips of Alhaitham and his younger self more times than he’d appreciate, but it’s warm and safe and brimming with affection. And in the morning, when he wakes up, Kaveh finds that the child-sized lump that should be slumbering away under the blanket between him and Alhaitham is gone. He brushes his hand against the bedsheets there, realizing that there is no imprint and that the sheets have long since grown cold.
Alhaitham rises awake before Kaveh notices it, “Has Little Kaveh left?”
“Yeah,” Kaveh says, a faraway expression on his face yet again. “Looks like he finally went back home.”
With a yawn, Alhaitham rests his cheek against Kaveh’s thigh and gazes up at his dear husband, “Does that upset you?”
“Strangely, no, it doesn’t,” Kaveh places a hand against his chest, feeling the feeble beating of his own heart, something so full and alive inside of him. “I think I still carry parts of him within me, after all. And I’ve learned how to love those parts too.”
Ba-bump.
Alhaitham blinks the morning sunlight out of his eyes, observing as the rays descend lightly around Kaveh’s hair. Today, too, is another chance to love.
Ba-bump.
“Not worried about him anymore?”
Ba-bump.
Kaveh smiles, “No, I’m sure he’ll grow up just fine.”