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1.
It wasn’t often that Alhaitham cared enough for an invite to interrupt his sleeping cycle. Granted, there was nothing to be interrupted, as he had only been tossing and turning in bed for yet another night—but Cyno didn’t know that when he dropped by his bedroom window. When he heard the knock on the frame, startling him out of a half formed idea for a research paper, Alhaitham glanced to the mirror to make sure he didn’t look too rumpled.
He cleared his throat as he rose to his feet. There was no need to verify the identity of the disturbance; there was only one person who would come to him at such a late hour through one of the windows instead of the front door.
“You’re back,” he greeted as soon as the window gave away to reveal a hooded, dark figure. Cyno smelled of the earth and the wind, he smelled of spices and ozone. Just recently returned from one of his assignments, then. “May I point out that there are better places to report your return that aren’t my bedroom window?”
“I’ve been to the Akademiya already, I’m not here for that. Besides, I never had to report to you to begin with, I’m not starting now. This is a personal visit, of course.” Cyno glanced down at the thin sleep shirt Alhaitham wore before snapping back up. “I wanted to ask if you’d like to go to the tavern with me. Well, after you’re more appropriately dressed, of course.”
Alhaitham shuffled forward to peek at the moon, making sure his prediction of the time was correct. He raised an eyebrow.
“At midnight.”
“Yes.”
“When you haven’t even been home yet.”
“Yes.”
Slower, he emphasized, “You came to my window at midnight so we can go to the tavern—”
“ Yes , is there a problem?”
Alhaitham paused to ponder that. Was there a problem? For Alhaitham himself, not as much. He couldn’t sleep, and his mind was running fast enough that attempting to read would just become half an hour of staring into space as his vision went blurry. At this time and on a working day, there wouldn’t be many patrons at the tavern, if there were any at all. On top of it all, Cyno was an engaging conversation partner without being loud (like Kaveh) or always worried about one thing or another (Tighnari).
Cyno, on the other hand, had shadows under his eyes so dark they looked like bruises, rivaling Alhaitham himself. He was sagging, too, but not in a way that indicated an injury. He was simply tired, in that way that only being dead to the world for half a day could fix.
But, if Cyno was the one inviting him, Alhaitham had no reason to refuse. He was the last person on Teyvat who could judge anyone for how they coped with their terrible sleeping habits. Having come to this conclusion, Alhaitham nodded his agreement. A smile brightened Cyno’s features.
“Give me a moment to get dressed.” Alhaitham tugged at his shirt like a threat. “As you said, I’m not in a decent state for leaving the house.”
That awarded him with a flinch from Cyno, as well as a string of mumbled words he couldn’t understand, as Cyno climbed back out the window and crouched outside. Alhaitham considered reminding Cyno that he wasn’t a maiden, but decided he had teased him enough.
He took his sweet time assembling his usual outfit, even as he heard Cyno thump his feet impatiently. Alhaitham grunted a little as he struggled to slip his boots in, and did his best not to chuckle when Cyno half turned his head before remembering himself and crouching even lower so only the ears of his hood could be seen.
“Let’s go,” Alhaitham announced once he was comfortable inside the protection of his jacket. It was unusually cold outside, and he felt no inclination to battle against the wind.
“Why are you leaving through the window?”
“ You are asking me that?” He scoffed. “I can hear Kaveh tinkering around the house. If you’d like to be the one to explain to him why he isn’t invited to our outing, please, be my guest.”
“He would probably cry.”
“Yes, he would.”
Without a word, Cyno extended a hand for him as Alhaitham hopped over the window frame. He rebalanced himself by clutching Cyno’s forearm. In their position, it was easy for Cyno to shuffle until he had his fingers in the crook Alhaitham’s elbow. The contact would usually bother him, but his jacket put up enough of a barrier that the closeness felt cozy instead of suffocating.
They had only walked for a few minutes when Cyno turned to him, eyes narrowed. “You did bring your wallet, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did, what kind of cheapskate do you take me for?”
What Alhaitham didn’t tell him, was that he didn’t need that kind of deception to avoid paying the bill. Cyno, feeling guilty for bothering him at such a late hour, would sneak the money to the waiter before Alhaitham had any say in the matter.
(Of course, Alhaitham would return the favor the next time they ate together, as he always did.)
It was a short walk to Lambard’s Tavern, therefore Alhaitham held back his questions for as long as it took for them to find a table and order a round of drinks as well as some appetizers. Only when the silence grew comfortable and they were both halfway through their cup did Alhaitham needle, “Why did you invite me here tonight?”
Cyno snapped up. He didn’t startle, but it was the closest thing the General Mahamatra came to. The gentle atmosphere was gone like smoke, Cyno’s muscles locking up all over again. Alhaitham wouldn’t have noticed these tells, if he hadn’t become quite so fluent on the General’s body language.
“Can’t I just want to spend time with you?” Cyno ribbed. “Believe it or not, some people do consider you a close friend.”
“I’m not questioning the status of our relationship.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “If you wanted to see me, we could’ve done this tomorrow, when you’re no longer nodding off every time you sit still. You look like hell, if you didn’t know.”
“I do know, thank you.”
“So?”
“So.”
Alhaitham sighed. “Cyno, you have a reason as to why seeing me tonight was imperative, and it’s not the Akademiya kind of emergency, you said it yourself that this was personal business. Something is bothering you, I can tell. In fact, I’m pretty sure anyone with eyes could tell you as much. The sooner you share what’s on your mind, the quicker you’ll be rid of the anxiety.”
“Just give me a moment, okay?” Cyno hissed. “It’s not that easy to just… Say it.”
The intensity of his words surprised Alhaitham. He held back his tongue, stopping himself from another teasing remark, in case it truly was such a difficult topic to breach. He did, however, sit back and cross his arms. Cyno rolled his eyes.
“You’re insufferable, did you know that?”
“I’m aware.” Alhaitham did his best to shape his features into something more friendly, looking Cyno in the eyes as encouragement. “Cyno.”
“Fine! Fine. I’m— You see, months ago I realized— No, nothing but being straightforward will work on a man like you,” he muttered. The words held the distinctive edge of an insult. After thinking with himself for a moment, Cyno drank the rest of his wine in one swing and took a deep breath. “I’m in love with you.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you mean — Yes, that’s it, Alhaitham.” If he kept rolling his eyes that way, his eyeballs would end up stuck in the back of his head. “Your lack of reaction can sometimes be quite cruel, you should watch out for that.”
The lecturing tone had Tighnari all over it, and the thought that Cyno was treating him like he would Collei was a disturbing one, given the situation. He quickly waved that comparison away.
“Actually, I’m just surprised,” he argued. “I thought there was more to it. After all, I’m well aware of your feelings.”
“Right. And?”
“What?”
“Your answer, Alhaitham!” He threw his hands into the air in frustration. Alhaitham tried not to take notice of how badly his fingers were shaking. “Archons, even if you haven’t done this before, I know you’ve read a lot of romance novels, there’s no excuse for being so obtuse. If you couldn’t tell, this is the part where you either confess to the mutuality of our undying love, or you tell me you don’t see me that way before you go home and I drink myself to sleep and definitely do not cry .”
“Is that why you picked the tavern?” Alhaitham marveled. It was quite an ingenious plan, really. Having this conversation at Alhaitham’s place made it so neither of them could leave without some level of awkwardness, and it risked an interruption by the overeager puppy he called a roommate. “...That’s very considerate of you.”
“Yeah, well.”
He took a moment to watch Cyno and all the ways nervousness molded him into someone else entirely. The thumbnail on his right hand was jagged and angry red, like he had been chewing on it just before coming to Alhaitham (or maybe even during the time it took Alhaitham to get into his clothes). He had tucked his hair behind his ear about ten times, but also had run a hand through it just as often, undoing his own work before he realized what he had done—an unending cycle. He was ordering another round of drinks like he couldn’t stand the scrutiny any longer. It had taken Cyno all his courage to just say the words Alhaitham thought were obvious.
It was just what being in love was like, if his readings were correct. The detachment he felt towards someone he considered a friend, in this exact moment, was what made his chest ache.
“Cyno,” he started carefully, “I’m not sure I can feel that way.”
“You’re not sure you can love me that way? Listen, if you’re rejecting me, you can just say so—”
“No, I'm not sure I can feel romantic love at all.”
The words felt strange in his mouth, somehow. Unfamiliar. Despite all his studies, Alhaitham didn’t know how else to express the distance he felt from Cyno’s attraction to him. He knew it was there, he knew what it was supposed to be like, in theory. But there was nothing driving him towards it. Alhaitham watched it all from behind a glass wall.
It took a moment for Cyno to find his words again. And when he did, he was careful, as if afraid this was a sensitive subject. “You’ve never been in love?”
Alhaitham shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Nor been attracted to someone?”
“I’ve read on the subject, but none of my emotions seemed to match that sort of desire, so no.”
“Huh.” He drummed his fingers on the table as he digested that information. “Do you want me to drop it, then? If you wish, of course I’ll respect your space, and I’d never want you to feel obligated to return something you don’t feel. However…”
“However?”
“I’d like to pursue you.”
“‘Pursue me,’” Alhaitham echoed flatly.
“Yes, woo you, court you, whatever way you’d like to put it,” Cyno agreed, each word coming out faster than the last. As he progressed through his sentence, the more it looked like he might blow a fuse. “It can be an experiment for you, to find out what you do or don’t feel, and what your preferences are.”
“You’d go that far for even a measly chance of being with me?” He translated. Alhaitham had to be sure he understood, that he wasn’t reading it wrong that Cyno wanted to spend weeks, maybe months laying his heart bare for a relationship that may not go past friendship.
“It’d be the greatest honor, if you’d allow me.”
It wasn’t that he felt in debt to Cyno for that, but seeing the earnest way he spoke, Alhaitham found himself wanting to be able to reciprocate it, even a little. Besides, there were no faults in Cyno’s argument: this was a chance to explore his preferences with someone who understood his limitations and wouldn’t push him for more. He could trust Cyno, there was nothing to doubt beyond that.
“I don’t see why not,” Alhaitham said.
Cyno grinned widely and muttered under his breath what sounded to be an emphatic yes! , fists waving in the air in a clear victorious gesture. When he realized Alhaitham was watching him with eyebrows raised, he composed himself, face scrubbed of any expressions in the blink of an eye. Cyno cleared his throat.
“Thank you,” he said solemnly.
Alhaitham distinctively felt like he had just signed up for a very peculiar research position.
2.
In the strict sense of the word, Alhaitham wasn't inexperienced when it came to dating. Or, well, at least not to the act of being on a date. His lack of interest aside, his looks were pleasing enough that sometimes a brave scholar wouldn't be deterred by his unapproachable aura and would instead invite him out. Alhaitham had accepted some of those invitations, if only because refusing was a bigger pain in the neck—he learned the hard way that some mistook that for "playing hard to get." He couldn't fathom how a cold and straightforward no could possibly be interpreted as permission to be pursued, but then again, Alhaitham didn't pretend to understand whatever mating dance people performed when they were attracted to someone.
Given his past experience, Alhaitham had been expecting an invitation from Cyno soon. A quiet restaurant or café, something out of town perhaps—a small establishment facing the river in Port Ormos, if Cyno was the romantic kind.
Instead, he got a letter, somehow delivered to his bedside table while he slept, telling him in simple, sharp words to pack up for an expedition to the desert. Given the method of contact, Alhaitham didn’t have to wonder who the letter was from (besides, there was only one person who took that authoritative tone with him). As strange as the request was, Alhaitham did prepare supplies for the trip, whenever that came to happen.
The little pack (something he could hide under his cloak without giving himself back pain) stayed in a corner of his room for at least one week before Cyno finally appeared at his doorstep, a rarity in and of itself. He was wearing his robes this time around, head protected under the shade of the hood. From the get up alone, he knew Cyno expected them to depart immediately. Alhaitham stared at him for a moment, already knowing he’d go despite his grievances.
“I could’ve done with some forewarning,” Alhaitham said. “You caught me at a bad time.”
He pointedly looked to the kitchen, where faint steam was coming from.
“I didn’t think you would be busy,” Cyno admitted, as close to shameful as he ever got.
Yes, it was the weekend and Alhaitham had been doing nothing but lounging on the couch with a book on his lap up to the point until he had gotten started on dinner preparations, which rendered Cyno’s predictions to be accurate. It was the principle of the thing, really.
“It’s fine, just get in. I’ll bet you haven’t had anything other than dry ration bars in between whatever oh so important job you’ve been busy with, so I know actual food would be very much appreciated.” Alhaitham padded back to the kitchen, sure that Cyno would follow, silent as a shadow. He checked one pot to make sure that nothing had burnt or stuck to the pan while he wasn’t looking. “Luckily, I have enough for two.”
“What about Kaveh?”
“He can get his own food.”
“Alhaitham,” Cyno said, managing to compact disapproval, disappointment and a warning all into one word.
“Don’t take that tone with me. You sound like one of my Akademiya teachers. If it wasn’t clear, that isn’t a good thing.” He stirred the boiling broth, uncaring to the judgmental stare burning the back of his neck. “Kaveh is an adult, he can deal with making his own meals like the rest of us. That, or he can go to a diner, there are plenty of those in Sumeru City, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“You truly are a paradox, aren’t you? Sometimes you grouch that you’re out past your bedtime when it’s barely ten in the evening, and I think you have the soul of an old man. But other times, you act like you’re no older than ten years old. Is that effect exclusive to Kaveh, I wonder, or are you prone to bouts of petulance at any given time?”
“I don’t know, maybe I’ll eat by myself and you’ll find out,” Alhaitham said casually. It was a special kind of bravery to threaten the General Mahamatra, but he knew Cyno had come to accept all his provocations as no more insulting than a hissing cat—which only incentivized Alhaitham to get even more creative.
“Brat,” Cyno muttered.
Alhaitham turned and held the wooden spoon to his chest as he made his best ‘aw shucks’ expression. “You flatter me.”
The spoon was snatched from his hands in the blink of an eye and flicked against his knuckles. The impact was no more painful than a slight pinch, but Alhaitham winced and waved his hand, staring down at Cyno and daring him to apologize. When he didn’t buckle, Alhaitham dropped the act and turned back to the food, now with Cyno stirring the broth under his careful watch.
Soon, they each had a plate of piping hot food, and they were too busy blowing at spoonfuls to continue their argument. Only the sound of cutlery cut the quiet atmosphere. While eating, they would sometimes lock gazes by accident, but no words would be uttered. If Cyno was uncomfortable with such an arrangement, it didn’t show.
The scene was domestic. It wasn’t anything Alhaitham hadn’t done before—he did live with a roommate after all. Something in it was different, however. Perhaps it was the ease of their friendship, something Alhaitham had all but given up on finding in another person. Or maybe it was the knowledge that it may or may not lead to something new. The possibility of change put a surprising knot of anxiety in his stomach, something Alhaitham tried his best to ignore.
“Are we going on a date?” He asked.
Cyno paused and looked up. Some of his food slipped down the spoon and splattered messily back onto the plate, throwing some sauce in Cyno’s direction. He seemed unaware of the small chaos he had caused, eyes solely on Alhaitham.
“You think as a first date I am about to take you to the desert to explore potentially dangerous ruins?” He summarized slowly. If he was doubting his own sanity or Alhaitham’s, it was hard to tell which.
“Am I wrong?”
“Not— strictly, no. You could consider it a date, if you’re comfortable with that.”
“But you’re considering it one?”
“I have… plans, which I’d rather not talk about at the present moment.” Cyno grimaced at his own choice in words. “Which isn’t as nefarious as it sounds, I promise. Honestly speaking, the only reason I’m keeping it a secret is because it’s embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing? You are? Embarrassed, I mean.”
“Yes, of course Alhaitham,” he sighed, on the edge of annoyance. “Most people would be at some point, in matters concerning romance.”
“Is that how it works?”
As if right on cue, Cyno’s expression softened. The impatience that had made his feet bounce was gone all at once. The way he recomposed himself was visible, the relaxing of his shoulders a practiced motion. Perhaps, having forgotten Alhaitham’s lack of attraction, Cyno had assumed he was being made fun of. A slightly insulting assumption, but understandable nonetheless. After all, this was just as novel for Cyno as it was for Alhaitham, even if in different ways.
“Yes, it is,” Cyno replied. “I understand why you’d be skeptical, but you know I’m not as unaffected by everything as I try to appear to be. Here, I can prove it to you.”
Cyno extended a hand in invitation. Perhaps the motion along with the cryptic words should disturb him, or at least rouse some suspicions in his mind. Instead, Alhaitham set his spoon down and met Cyno’s hand halfway. Cyno took a hold of his wrist and yanked it forward, to his own chest. Under Alhaitham’s fingertips, he felt it: Cyno’s heartbeat galloped so fast and so strongly, it felt as if his heart was inside the palm of Alhaitham's hand, without any barriers between them. Not only that, but his heartbeat went impossibly faster after a second.
Cyno cleared his throat after he let go of Alhaitham. “So there you have it.”
The impression of Cyno's body heat left a static-like feeling at his fingertips. Alhaitham clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to memorize the new sensation. Maybe that was what Cyno felt, but at all times, and much stronger: a constant burning at the edge of his limbs.
“It doesn’t feel half bad,” Alhaitham decided.
“What doesn’t?”
“Having that sort of effect on someone.” He thought about it for a moment longer, then quickly concluded that was the wrong way to put it, so Alhaitham corrected himself: “To know I can make you feel that way.”
It was a compliment, for a man he greatly respected—how many people could claim they were capable of making the General Mahamatra’s heart race?—but he wasn’t sure if it would be taken that way. No matter how straightforward and clear he was in his words, people tended to misunderstand him no matter what, always willing to see the worst subtext in every sentence rather than the plain truth he presented to them. Perhaps used to Alhaitham’s way of speaking, Cyno just offered a lopsided smile at the observation before he went back to his food.
In the comfort of the knowledge that there was very little space for petty misunderstandings between them nowadays, they each finished the rest of their meal in silence. He tried to take the plates to the sink, but Cyno shoved him aside with his hip before taking care of the dirty dishes. Cyno was at ease in his kitchen, already familiar with Alhaitham’s organization system. The General had only been over for dinner a total of three times before this one, meaning he had used his nearly photographic memory to keep a record of where Alhaitham put away the spoons.
“Making yourself at home, are we, General?” Alhaitham couldn’t help but jab.
“If I’m about to take you away to the desert and probably have you burn your delicate skin while you complain about the sand, I might as well offer a bit of compensation for your troubles. This is nothing.” He pointedly set his plate down before finding a rag he could use to dry it with. “Thank you for indulging me. I don’t think I say that enough.”
“There’s no need to act coy with me now, after everything. I don’t do anything expecting your thanks—or anyone’s for that matter.”
“Yes, yes, I know that, o Grand Scribe. I’m still thankful to have you in my life. We’re both busy, and I’m often away. The average person doesn’t take kindly to weeks of silence followed by sudden invitations, be it to the tavern or to the desert.”
“You have better things to worry about than to waste time with idle talk. If I truly had an urgent need to talk to you, I know how to reach you.”
“You don’t even realize that makes you special, do you? Though, I admit it’s one of the things I love about you.” Cyno paused, eyes suddenly so big Alhaitham could see the deepest red in his irises. Water dripped down his elbows as he tucked his hair behind his ear. “I feel like it’s so much easier to say that, after the first time. Is that a problem?”
“I don’t see why it would be.” Alhaitham shrugged. “It’s idiotic—not to mention exhausting—to fuss over what is already a known fact. You can say it as much as you want, as long as you’re not expecting something in return from me.”
Cyno chuckled, so soft it made him look far smaller, far more fragile.
“Yeah, you’re something special alright.”
It was just their luck that, halfway between Sumeru City and the borders of the Red Desert, a relentless storm poured right over their heads. They were far from any sort of settlement, and there were no trees in sight to use as cover. They didn’t bother running, knowing it would be useless to expend their energy that way. Under his full cloak, Cyno was warm and protected. Alhaitham, however, only had his half cape to depend on. He stared at the piece of fabric in dismay before pulling it over his head (not that it did anything to stop rainwater from getting into his shoes).
They walked under the storm for what felt like ages, Alhaitham wondering if it was too late to call off their expedition. By the time they finally found a cave they could hide in for a little bit, Alhaitham was drenched to the bone and shivering like a newborn chick. As soon as they managed to light up a fire between them, Alhaitham curled up as close to it as he dared.
“This place seems secure, so I don’t think there’s any risk of a landslide shutting us in,” Cyno asserted.
Not that Alhaitham had been thinking about anything other than the fact that he couldn’t feel his fingers, or even the fact that he had mud in his left shoe from when he had accidentally stepped into a rather deep puddle.
“Make sure you warm up, your lips are blue.”
“A-Astute observation, General,” he rebutted, teeth clacking.
“There’s no need to be rude, I’m worried about your health—” Cyno’s head shot up towards the darker, deeper depths of the cave. “Did you hear that?”
“What—”
A hilichurl stepped out, cautious of them. It stared at the pair for a long moment, but it was hard to discern its intent, with the mask covering its face. Cyno didn’t move to attack, although his fingers were in position to summon his spear.
“I think it lives here,” Cyno whispered. “I don’t see a reason to attack if it’s peaceful, but if we’re intruding in its territory—”
Suddenly, the hilichurl crouched to pick up a rock and hurl it at them. As soon as it was done, it ran back further into the cave, making a few disgruntled noises as it left. Watching the whole spectacle and frozen in place with his cold limbs, Alhaitham didn’t even move as the rock hit him squarely on the forehead. Cyno looked like he might pursue the hilichurl for a second, but then he looked at Alhaitham and went unnaturally still.
“You…”
“What?”
A long, long beat. Cyno’s entire frame shook. It took Alhaitham a moment to realize he was trying not to laugh, and as soon as he thought that, Cyno broke into hysterical giggles.
“You— You look ridiculous,” he shrieked, breathless as he fell into full on cackling. “Your—”
He tried to elaborate, but no coherent words left his mouth. Cyno gestured to Alhaitham as a whole, which didn’t help at all. Despite that, Alhaitham could imagine exactly what he looked like: hair a frizzy mess sticking out in every direction, one muddy boot off his left foot, his drenched coat around his shoulders doing nothing but making him colder, and now a growing bump on his forehead. Alhaitham scowled.
“This is entirely your fault,” he argued petulantly.
“I didn’t throw the rock at you,” Cyno threw back, still laughing. “Come here.”
Although he called for Alhaitham, it was Cyno that moved to his side. He took away Alhaitham’s cape, and instead covered him with his own insulated cloak. The warm fabric immediately soothed his bad mood, and he burrowed into it until only his eyes were peeking out. Cyno snorted so hard he almost choked. Not in the mood for jokes, Alhaitham not so gently flicked Cyno’s cheek, who let it happen without complaint.
“No one else gets to hit the General Mahamatra and live,” Cyno commented, still full of mirth. “You’re lucky I love you.”
I suppose I am , Alhaitham thought, in equal parts exasperation and fondness.
3.
In the back of his mind, Alhaitham knew that a stakeout would require some level of disguise, especially for Cyno—whose intimidating aura was hard to ignore even in the most innocuous of situations. Alhaitham himself didn’t bother with much; not a lot of people were familiar with his face, even after his brief reign as Grand Sage. He had made sure his appearance wouldn’t be engraved into anyone’s mind (otherwise, there would be lines of scholars tailing him in hopes of curing favor from the former Grand Sage everywhere he went). Therefore, he had settled for dressing as usual but shedding his cape. He had looked into the mirror once, deemed himself boring enough and left the house for the meeting place he agreed on beforehand.
Despite all that, Alhaitham didn’t expect Cyno to show up any differently than usual. So when a brown-haired man tapped his shoulder while he balanced himself atop a fence with a book in hand, he wondered why this stranger thought it was appropriate to interrupt him.
“Alhaitham,” the stranger called, somehow acquainted with him. A long beat passed, Alhaitham frowning heavily. The stranger raised his eyebrows. Looking closely, those red-orange eyes felt familiar somehow— “It’s me, Cyno.”
“Hm.”
Well, yes. His mind caught on to that fact just a little before Cyno spoke, but it took him another minute to truly process the person in front of him. Cyno wasn’t wearing any of his traditional clothing; not the headdress or even his robe, instead clad in a black, breathable attire in place of the skin-tight garbs he seemed to favor (not that Alhaitham could judge him for that particular preference, given his own shirt). The biggest difference, of course, was Cyno’s hair: the color was much darker and his bangs were pushed aside with a simple hair clip—in the shape of a jackal head, of all things—revealing both of his eyes as well as the expense of his forehead. Was it strange, to be so thrown off by the sight of a person’s forehead? Altogether, the getup was so non-threatening, Alhaitham couldn’t associate it with Cyno.
“Lesser Lord Kusanali helped me,” he explained. “Descriptions of the General Mahamatra are more often than not ‘a young man with long white hair.’ My usual appearance stands out a bit too much, it’s hard not to spot someone with the lightest hair in the room. The jackal ears are an easy tell as well.” He thumbed the ends of his hair, looking up at Alhaitham with strangely expectant eyes. “Does it look strange?”
“Unfamiliar, yes. It doesn’t look like you. Given the fact that we’re supposed to be disguised, I’d say that’s a good thing.”
It wasn’t disappointment that shone in Cyno’s eyes, but it was something akin to it. He smiled, a little rueful, something that seemed to say well, what did I expect?. Alhaitham tried to think if had misstepped somehow, unused to receiving that sort of look when he had made a genuine compliment towards one’s competency. They stood side by side in silence, Alhaitham lost in his ponderings over this little mystery. Cyno would usually fill the air with his own chatter, but that would change whenever he had a mission to think about.
It was only when they stepped up to their ride (a simple cart kindly offered by a merchant who was going to the same place as them) that Alhaitham remembered the situation he was in. The unchanging nature of his relationship with Cyno often allowed him to forget that he was being courted , as much as it didn’t feel like it half the time. Surely a date couldn't be called that unless it was established beforehand that it was that sort of outing, so Alhaitham hadn’t thought it mattered, in this case. But Cyno was in love with him—and people in love enjoyed being complimented by the object of their affection. Was he supposed to reciprocate Cyno to some degree, as the one being courted? He did agree to this, after all.
He observed Cyno from the corner of his eyes. It was the end of the day, and the sunset made Cyno’s now dark hair glow. The strands blew gently in the air, and there were faint freckles along the bridge of his nose; a result of his latest visit to the desert, most likely. Now that Alhaitham had gotten used to the disguise, it wasn’t all that strange. In a way, it suited him—not the General, it suited Cyno , the one who talked about a children’s game with a sparkle in his eyes. He was beautiful, in the same abstract way as the sea or the sky. He didn’t think this counted as attraction, but it was the closest thing Alhaitham had to offer.
“It’s not a bad look on you,” he decided, after a much too long break in their conversation.
Cyno snapped out of his reverie with a blink, and he looked up at Alhaitham before chuckling, a youthful flush overtaking his cheeks.
“Coming from you, I take that’s a very high compliment,” he mused. “Thank you.”
His words were sincere. Alhaitham could tell as much, from the way a smile kept tugging at his lips, an aura of contentment surrounding. He tried to digest that reaction, even as it burned low in his stomach. Maybe Alhaitham wouldn’t mind seeing Cyno like that more often.
“About the mission…” Alhaitham prodded.
“Right.” Cyno nodded as he took out a small bundle of paper, hidden in the folds of his clothes. “I haven’t told you much, I apologize. We’re not doing anything dangerous. About two weeks ago, I received an anonymous tip about a scholar who may be using the Akademiya as leverage to acquire favors from residents in Caravan Ribat. It's a pretty plain case of minor scamming. He often makes his move in an establishment on the outskirts of the village, and we're only going to scout the place to see if these claims hold water. In truth, there’s a fifty by fifty chance he might show up. You—” he emphasized the motion by passing his notes to Alhaitham— “will be my second pair of eyes. It’s a crowded place, it’s not possible to watch everything on my own.”
Alhaitham took the papers, carefully reading each elegant stroke of Cyno’s handwriting. There wasn’t much in there that Cyno hadn’t already said, besides details like age, name, and a description of the man’s appearance. He should be easy to spot, as he often went in wearing his Akademiya uniform. He would promise a career within the Akademiya to coerce struggling villagers into doing what he wanted. The uniform made sense in that regard. One thing was bothering him, however. He looked up at Cyno.
“I’m not condoning this man’s actions,” Alhaitham said slowly, “but this isn’t punishable by the Akademiya’s laws. You of all people would know that.”
“Yes, of course. This investigation is off the records. Even if the Matra no longer need express permission from the Sages to operate, mobilizing any of my subordinates would be inappropriate allocation of Akademiya resources. That is exactly why I invited you . First and foremost, the Matra are a disciplinary committee, we should be able to at least give a warning on the grounds of misconduct, if the Akademiya’s name is truly being used to coerce others. I might even be able to put him on a watch list, if I make a strong enough case.”
“Walk me through what you have so far. I’ll help you sort out the documents to take to the Sages. It is within my authority to approve any procedures you send my way, as the Grand Scribe. And as a last resort, we can also employ Lesser Lord Kusanali’s help.”
“Though I’d rather not have to go that far.”
“Exactly. Let’s try everything else, first.”
It was clear that Cyno had feared he would be rejected. Alhaitham hadn’t realized just how tense the General had been until he sat back against a sack of produce, posture relaxed. Granted, Alhaitham’s moral compass was nowhere near as steady as Cyno’s, but he wouldn’t have turned down a request from him. Perhaps Alhaitham should feel some outrage at being manipulated into following along with a half truth, but the part of him made content by the fact that Cyno had seeked out his help first and foremost won out over any negative feelings before they could even surface.
The ride to Caravan Ribat was long, filled with strategy plans; by the time they arrived at the village, it was nightfall. The merchant smiled gratefully at them when they each threw in a sizable tip.
“May the archons be with you,” she proclaimed before parting ways to take care of her wares.
“This way,” Cyno directed with a customary hand at Alhaitham’s elbow, leading them to a building a few meters away from the entrance gate. There was music playing inside, loud enough that Alhaitham could hear it even before they stepped inside. His hand twitched for the button on his noise-cancelling headphones, but he stopped himself before Cyno could catch the motion.
He had heard about this kind of place, made for dancing and drinking, far rowdier than any normal tavern could be. They didn’t exist in Sumeru City, strictly banned by the Akdemiya—something they never got around to reviewing, in the fray of having to deal with far more important matters—but they had grown popular all the same. On weekends, he would often hear students planning trips to one of them, and he could see now how many weary travelers were flocking to the building. As they stepped inside and the music assaulted his ears just as hard as the overwhelming smell of a closely packed crowd, Alhaitham couldn’t really see the appeal.
“Keep a close eye on the servers,” Cyno instructed. He was on the tip of his toes to whisper in Alhaitham’s ear. Even then, Alhaitham almost didn’t hear it, his senses unable to focus on anything long enough to process what was being said to him.
“If you need to talk to me, tap my arm,” Alhaitham replied as he put his headphones on the lowest setting—dampening everything just enough so he could breathe without feeling like his lungs were about to collapse. Cyno cast a worried glance his way. He chewed on his bottom lip for a bit before waving his hands in front Alhaitham. He recognized the Sumerian Sign Language after a moment.
“Are you really going to be okay?” Cyno signed. “I know you don’t like loud noises, I’m sorry for forcing you into this situation.”
Disike wasn’t necessarily the right word. The live music reverberating inside his skull made every cell in his body recoil, made him aware of every single organ inside his body, his loudly beating heart most of all. If it wasn’t for his headphones, Alhaitham was sure he would’ve thrown up by now.
“It’s fine,” Alhaitham signed back. “I’ll let you know if I need a break.”
Cyno nodded, though he didn’t seem too confident in Alhaitham's words.
All the tables were occupied, but, by some miracle, there were two free stools by the bar that they quickly claimed for themselves. They sat facing each other so they more easily keep up their conversation, as well as survey different directions at the same time. It was a testament to the usefulness of Cyno’s simple disguise that the barkeeper—or any patrons for that matter—didn’t even glance their way.
“You said something about the servers?” Alhaitham signed.
“Right. They’re his most common targets, though not his only ones.”
As soon as he found one of the servers, Alhaitham could see the plot clear as day. They looked frazzled, flitting between tables with drinks and dishes piled high on a tray, a smile plastered on their faces like it had been stuck that way. The kind of person who earned far less than the crowd they served, struggling to make ends meet while dreaming of a miraculous change in life.
“Why haven’t they warned each other about this man after they realized they’ve been lied to?” He wondered. Surely, after enough time passed without any further contact, they would’ve realized the proposition had been false.
“If you had turned to desperate measures in hopes of a new life, only to realize you had been tricked into selling yourself for nothing, would you speak of it to anyone?”
It depended on the situation, of course. Holding on to pride was sometimes more trouble than it was worth. But this wasn’t about him; Alhaitham wasn’t so lacking in self awareness that he didn’t know he had lived a privileged life, away from the struggles of the poorer residents of Sumeru. And even then, he had gone through all the trouble of staging a coup d'etat just to keep hold of said privileges. If he had failed and ended up jailed for life, Alhaitham wasn’t too sure he would’ve wanted to bring up the event either. In a way, he could understand how these people felt.
There wasn’t much to do from then on except to look around and attempt not to come off as suspicious, so they engaged in irrelevant small talk while nursing a cup of wine they barely touched. It was too conspicuous to just sit face to face without a word, so they talked in between checking the crowd, either with hands or in carefully enunciated words, something easy to lipread. Since the conversation was, for the most part, privy only to the two of them, they often didn’t bother saying anything coherent, as long as it seemed like they were engaged in conversation.
(It almost broke Alhaitham’s concentration when Cyno signed every possible TCG card available with a grave expression.)
The Akademiya green was easy to spot in a sea of neutral tones, but there were enough students roaming around after their classes were done that his eyes caught on the wrong target plenty of times. This might not be as easy as he had initially thought.
At the end, it wasn’t Cyno’s rambles or another spot of green that distracted him, but the sudden arrival of a stranger handing him a drink. Alhaitham blinked hard, getting his vision to focus on the person in front of him instead of the crowd just past Cyno’s shoulders.
“No, thank you,” he stated bluntly, not giving their words a second thought, prompting the stranger to awkwardly shuffle away.
Except this wasn’t the only similar incident. Others tried to proposition him as well. A free drink, an invitation for a dance, or an attempt to engage him in quiet conversation, a body lingering far too close to his. He had been so focused on the mission that Alhaitham didn’t notice the sultry cadence to their tone, the meaningful looks. Of course, there were plenty of couples kissing or dancing close together, but Alhaitham somehow hadn’t thought he might be approached for that kind of thing.
He flatly ignored them, or offered a one word refusal, which was enough to dissuade any further advances. At first, Cyno had watched this happen with amusement, then with an expression similar to one sucking on a lemon, and finally settled on plain worry.
Alhaitham cranked up the settings on his headphones, until all he heard was an unnatural quietness buzzing in his ears. He breathed carefully. Dampening his hearing didn’t eliminate the problem at its roots; it certainly didn’t stop the staring, or the deliberate way other patrons would brush past him with a bumped shoulder, an arm dragging against him in a far too slow curve. He wished he had opted for more clothing, no matter how hot he would’ve been in the cover of his cloak. At least it would’ve provided a barrier, a clear wall between him and them .
It wasn’t that Alhaitham really minded this sort of thing. He was an adult, not an impressionable teenager. He knew sexual attraction, desire—it was all par for the course. If someone wanted to make out right in front of him, it couldn’t matter less to him, as long as it had nothing to do with him. But that was the issue, wasn’t it? As soon as those heated glances were directed his way, Alhaitham couldn’t picture a worse place to be in. No matter how often he reminded himself that this was normal, and he knew he was considered attractive by normal standards, it didn’t stop the wave of pure disgust that rolled in his stomach, filling his mouth with acid.
There was an empathetic hand on his bicep, shaking him out of his stupor. Alhaitham flinched away from the touch, hiding his visceral reaction behind an impassive glare. Cyno stared back at him, brows furrowed. From the looks of it, he had been trying to get his attention for quite some time now.
“You okay?” He mouthed.
Alhaitham considered his options. He understood the importance of this mission, and he wanted the guy caught nearly as much as Cyno (because no one was quite as virtuous as the General Mahamatra himself). Abandoning his post would leave Cyno vulnerable, with no one to cover his back. But it wasn’t that kind of mission, where misstepping for even a millisecond would mean a blade to the neck. He could step outside without jeopardizing their operation. In fact, things would progress more smoothly if Cyno didn’t have to glance his way every other minute to check on Alhaitham’s condition.
He shook his head, a diminutive little gesture as he got to his feet. Cyno’s eyes widened as he moved back, towards the exit, away from the crowd and any unwanted attention. He was halfway to the door, eyes closed as he fought another bout of vertigo, when an elbow wrapped around his. This time, he did recognize that hand. Alhaitham didn’t open his eyes, and simply let himself be guided outside as his mind became blank for a few disorienting minutes.
The night air hit him at full force, the chilly breeze fresher than anything he had felt before. He took in a large breath, willing the knot in his chest to unwind. His skin was clammy, too hot and too cold at the same time.
“This is my fault,” Cyno said. He was so matter-of-fact, Alhaitham almost laughed.
“Nonsense. I knew this could happen, I was the one who didn’t warn you of the possibility. Not to take a jab at your abilities, General, but foresight and mindreading are not part of your repertoire.” He squinted. Given that Cyno housed an ancient god in his body, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. “It isn’t, right?”
“Of course not, don’t be silly.”
“Then there’s nothing to apologize for. It was my own oversight that I didn’t account for this happening, I’m not used to this kind of club . It’s not exactly my usual crowd. If I had known—”
—He wouldn’t have come? Alhaitham reflected on this for a moment, but came to a quick and simple conclusion: despite knowing about the sort of attention he might get in a place like this, no matter how much he anticipated the revulsion which would give him something akin to a migraine, he still would’ve come. Because Cyno needed him, and he had asked for his help before he went to anyone else. Alhaitham couldn’t possibly refuse him, no matter what was the personal cost of his participation.
“Well, that’s all there is to it, therefore—”
“Haitham,” Cyno called gently. After some hesitation, he gathered Alhaitham’s palms into his. Alhaitham hadn’t noticed how badly his hands were shaking, or how cold they were until that very moment. “You’re rambling.”
He clamped his mouth shut and clenched his fists. The vulnerability of it all was unbearable. Alhaitham often went out of his way to keep his thoughts and emotions in check, but all that control fell apart when his own body betrayed him.
“What happened there?” Cyno prodded.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“ Alhaitham. ” His eyes were severe. “I would like to avoid letting something similar happen again. I’m sure you can understand that no one would want to see the person they love in pain or discomfort, so please, indulge me. Consider it my own selfish request.”
“I don’t like being touched,” he murmured, feeling particularly like a child. It reminded him of similar conversations when adults came to visit his grandmother and insisted on a hug, no matter how many times he refused it. More often than not, his grandmother had stepped in and lightly told the guest that Haitham is very particular about his space , a laugh coloring her voice. The adults hadn’t been too amused by the whole thing, if memory served right. “When strangers purposely try to get close to me, it makes my skin crawl. Especially when it’s done with… intent.”
Cyno puzzled over his words, confused. A crowd of tipsy teenagers walked by them, some openly gawking, giggling to themselves. Alhaitham rolled his eyes as he gestured to the group to illustrate his point, and Cyno’s mouth fell open as understanding dawned on him. He murmured a surprisingly dirty expletive under his breath.
“I feel like I led you right into the lion’s den.”
“That’s a bit dramatic, even for you,” he joked. “It’s fine, Cyno. I’m in my twenties, don’t you think I’ve experienced far worse than having other adults attracted to me? It’s not as bad as you seem to think it is.”
“You’ve gone completely pale.” Cyno narrowed his eyes as Alhaitham shrugged. “You looked two seconds away from puking.”
His interrogation came to a halt when Cyno’s eyes fell on their joined hands. He didn’t quite pull away, but the rigidness in his muscles told Alhaitham he was fighting the urge to do exactly that, although he did take a single step back—caught between distancing himself and staying right where he was, Alhaitham in his grasp.
“Is this okay?” He asked. Cyno squeezed, so fleeting it couldn’t even be called a touch. His gaze was open, sincere. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked you beforehand.”
“It’s fine.”
“Where’s the line, exactly?”
“It’s you, so it’s largely fine,” Alhaitham explained. He pressed his thumb to Cyno’s to prove his point. He could feel his own heart rate slowing, bit by bit, as he focused on their point of contact over everything else. “Your touch is comfortable.”
“That…” Cyno swallowed thickly while chewing on his bottom lip. “That doesn’t really help.”
Well, it was the truth. Alhaitham knew his limits with everyone else , with strangers and acquaintances alike, as it was pretty simple: no amount of touch was okay. With Cyno, however, someone he cared for, someone who loved him… He hadn’t been around a person who made him feel so completely at ease since his grandmother passed—and even then, the way she would tuck him under her chin was different from when Cyno held him like he was his whole world.
“Can I kiss you?” Cyno asked, bringing all his thoughts to an abrupt standstill. All his observations collided right against each other as his brain rushed to a halt, and Alhaitham was left with no coherent words with which to reply.
He couldn’t really say what this feeling was. It wasn’t aversion, he at least knew that. But a lack of distaste didn’t equate to any particular desire existing in its place. Alhaitham considered how to express as much, surprised to find he didn’t want to hurt Cyno’s feelings, or give him the wrong impression.
(What the right impression was, that remained to be seen.)
“Cyno—”
“Your forehead!” Cyno spoke at the same time, breath rushed out of him. His face had become an interesting shade of red, a splotchy bush on his cheeks. “I meant, can I kiss your forehead? Archons, I’m sorry, I just blurted that out…”
“Well, since you asked so politely,” Alhaitham teased.
Although Cyno graced that with a glare, Alhaitham couldn’t bask in the small victory for riling up the aloof General before that scenery was hidden away behind his hair, as he lowered his head to Cyno like a spoil of war. Cyno swayed forward, much closer than before; he marveled a little over how natural that motion felt, as if their bodies were perfectly in tune. Cyno’s lips met his forehead, firm but gentle. He didn’t pull away.
“Sorry for making you uncomfortable,” Cyno whispered, “and thank you for trusting me with that information.”
They stayed in that position for a very long time, longer than was strictly necessary. It should be insulting, to be treated as a child in need of comfort, but that was hardly how he felt while Cyno touched him. For a moment, he could just be—with all his jumbled up thoughts and all the inarticulate words. There was no need to overthink, there was no need to run every single one of his responses through layers upon layers of filtering. Right then, Alhaitham knew he was safe.
By the time he caught himself indulging in that feeling, Cyno had already stepped away, smiling and full of mirth. That expression, coupled with the freckles on the bridge of his nose, made Cyno all the more sunny , bright and innocent in a way that shouldn’t fit him, but it did. He seemed content with this turn of event, a giddiness to him that made his fingers twitch. Not for the first time, Alhaitham reminded himself that Cyno loved him, wanted him, in every possible way those words could entail.
He cleared his throat. “The mission—”
“I’ll talk to Lesser Lord Kusanali. She’s already aware of our operations, given I had to employ her help for my disguise. I’m sure she won’t mind doing some inversgating for my sake, and I can take it from there. Don’t you know? The Grand Scribe promised he would make sure any paperwork was swiftly approved.”
“You said that was the last resort,” Alhaitham argued.
“And I’m resorting to it last.” He freed one of his hands, but kept the other firmly around Alhaitham’s wrist. “Let’s go home, Alhaitham.”
Alhaitham had to chuckle, mesmerized by the slight childishness in Cyno’s behavior. He could tease him for it, but the prospect that it might cause him to clam up stayed Alhaitham’s tongue. It could be his secret, then, just for the time being.
“As you say, General.”
4.
Maybe it should bother him, to spend so much of his time with another person. A year ago, Alhaitham would’ve thought it impossible. The implicit expectations, followed by the disappointment over a mistake he didn’t know he committed, his free time turned into a commodity—it was all too much of a hassle.
Cyno, however, was easy to take at face value. He always said what he meant, and when he didn’t, he held no hopes of being understood. There were no psychological games, no juvenile tests of affection. The word had become redundant with how often he had thought it in regards to the General in recent times, but being around Cyno was easy, comfortable.
This was his justification for accepting each and every invitation from Cyno. They went to the theater, or they worked on reports in silence on his living room floor, they cooked together and laughed over drinks. Not that they spent all day glued to the hip—there was only so much Alhaitham’s social battery could take, and Cyno was away from the city or otherwise busy more often than not. But there was a constancy to it, a frequency that hadn’t been there before.
And shockingly, Alhaitham didn’t mind it at all.
Today, they roamed the streets of Sumeru without a particular destination in mind. Cyno was grocery shopping, testing the quality of fresh produce with expertise, while Alhaitham simply followed him around. He had taken out a book to read a few times, when Cyno was engrossed in his task. The action wasn’t met with scolding or even a glare, so Alhaitham assumed that his attention being elsewhere didn’t bother Cyno.
“There are book stalls being set up on Treasures Street, now that their distribution is allowed by the Akademiya,” Alhaitham commented. He paused for just long enough to finish a paragraph, then turned to Cyno. “We should check their supplies. I doubt it’s anything impressive, given how long it’s been since books were in demand, but they might surprise us. You never know.”
Cyno paid for a particularly big turnip before he entertained Alhaitham’s suggestion.
“I’ve been wanting to see what kind of light novels we can find here now, so that would be convenient. It was a lot of trouble to acquire anything I liked before the change in law, since I had to personally import from Inazuma.” He shook his head. “Not that a lot made it past the borders for some years, mind you.”
As Cyno adjusted his hands to hold the paper bags, Alhaitham braced one against his own chest before Cyno had a chance to protest against his help. There was nothing of interest inside, only what looked to be ingredients for a soup, so Alhaitham settled for staring at Cyno’s profile instead.
“Well, General, consider this your lucky day: you no longer have to pay for contraband.”
“That's not what it was, all my transactions were legal,” Cyno snapped, looking like he might have actually hit Alhaitham over that comment, if his hands weren’t full. Which was good, because Sumerian citizens could only tolerate their impromptu spars for so long. “I’ve got the paperwork to prove it.”
“You covered your bases well,” Alhaitham whistled, “you have my admiration.”
He adjusted his grip on the bags, as they almost fell when Cyno attempted to reach for his ear in retaliation. “I would rather you don’t remind me of your criminal inclination.”
“I prefer to call it thinking outside the box.”
Cyno didn’t grace that with an answer. Well, if he truly had an issue with Alhaitham’s methods, he would’ve subjugated him already, so Alhaitham reduced those words to empty nagging and left it at that.
They reached the booksellers not long after. Alhaitham perused each collection with his eyes and a single hand, careful not to drop Cyno’s groceries or, even worse, damage one of the books. Although the genre and overall theme varied, the books had one thing in common: there wasn’t a single trace of nonfiction to be found.
“I guess it makes sense,” Alhaitham mused out loud. “The public who would be interested in nonfiction are usually researchers and scholars. What could these booksellers offer that the Akademiya doesn’t already have? I have to say, though, the amount of fantasy stories is an over exaggeration—”
“Hold these for me” Cyno barred on with as much force as he shoved all of his groceries into Alhaitham’s hands. The book he had been about to open fell back to its pile, while a single apple spilled out from the topmost bag, precariously balanced on his shaking hands. As much as he assured nothing else would fall, Alhaitham still scowled in displeasure.
“Are you planning to feed all your subordinates and the Corps of Thirty?”
“Collei and Tighnari are coming over for the weekend, and Collei doesn’t eat nearly enough,” he said breezily. Cyno pulled Alhaitham by the edge of his cape; he was grinning like a madman. “Come here, I wanted to show you this.”
Alhaitham was dragged to a stall proudly advertising itself for its “light novels,” acquired from Inazuma. That sort of literature was becoming more popular in recent times, surely due to the efforts of that editor that came to visit back during the Nilotpala Cup Beast Tamer's Tournament (Cyno and Layla had both told him about the woman hailed from Inazuma, as well as the happenings of the unnecessarily wordy tournament). He hadn’t quite given them a chance yet, prioritizing other books that had been in his to read pile for the better part of a year.
“I read the first volume of this one ages ago, I was never able to get a sequel. I wasn’t even sure it existed at this point, but they actually have it available now,” Cyno marveled, sounding like a kid at Sabzeruz Festival. “It’s so strange to see so many copies of it in one place when I thought the sequel may never have been written after all.”
Cyno sighed happily, tracing the spine of his book and the indents of each letter in the title. He held it up for Alhaitham to see. Leaning carefully forward, he squinted at the summary on the back cover. It was a science fiction story, and though the space exploration was a bit on the fantastical side, it sounded like a rather grounded and somber book, especially for a light novel. Even the title was on the traditional side, instead of saying something like I, the Dendro Archon, reincarnated as a slime?! (which was an actual, existing work. Alhaitham wondered if Lesser Lord Kusanali would get a kick out of it).
“Would you like to read it?” Cyno wondered, correctly reading his intrigue. “I can buy two copies of this, and lend you the first volume. I normally wouldn’t, since it’s a special edition, but I know you’re even more meticulous about rare books than even myself.”
“It’s interesting enough,” Alhaitham conceded. “Although, I can’t help but feel like you’re introducing me to a more subdued piece so I’ll be amenable to light novels as a whole.”
“Oh, please , you’ll read anything, even if it’s objectively bad and you just want to tear it apart with proof to back your claims of how horrid it is. I don’t need to warm you up to a new medium.”
“Guilty.”
As promised, Cyno did get two copies of the novel. As Alhaitham accompanied Cyno to his home for the sake of dropping off his groceries, Cyno held the books like he would a newborn baby. His face was aglow even when his overall expression was blank. He knew exactly how Cyno felt, but the sight was no less amusing for it.
“We should discuss the book, when we’re both done,” Cyno suggested as he took the paper bags from Alhaitham’s hands. He ran inside, steps quiet but a clear hop in them, then returned with volumes one and two in hand—the first far more worn and well loved than the brand new copy. Alhaitham could see a very faint stain on the cover, where Cyno’s finger would rest as he read. He took the offered books with the amount of care it clearly warranted.
“Sure, though don’t expect me to praise it just because it’s your favorite book.”
“I would never.”
They said their goodbyes and Alhaitham headed home, where he could finally set the books down on a clean dresser without fear that they would tear or stain. He was sure both volumes would remain in exactly that spot for a few more months to come; after all, he had been in the middle of getting through a mystery novel from Fontaine, and he doubted Cyno would be able to get to it any faster, considering how demanding his job was.
However, the two hundred pages novel (give or take) was all he could see in his mind’s eye. No matter how hard he tried to stay focused on his current research, his mind was everywhere except on the paper on modern linguistics. Things went on like this for a while, until Kaveh complained that he was leaving his books around the house again, gesturing to the two abandoned light novels decorating what should be the coffee table. Alhaitham glanced at it and justified himself by saying he was currently reading those, and therefore the novels needed to be readily available. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Alhaitham decided to let himself succumb to curiosity.
The title stared up at him: Beyond the Stars . On the surface, a simple fantasy work on what might be out there in the skies, but more importantly, as Cyno had explained, an exploration of loneliness and human connection. Somehow, it was exactly the kind of thing he pictured Cyno reading, when he wasn’t busy getting starry-eyed over YA fiction. He opened the book, expecting to quickly get bored and forget about its existence for a little while.
Mysteriously, one week into getting into the novel and a few pages away from finishing both volumes, Alhaitham found a note tucked in between the cover and the endpaper. He recognized Cyno’s handwriting immediately, more familiar with his handwritten reports than anyone else could be. He didn’t have to wonder how Cyno even managed to do that; after all, breaking and entering was no huge feat for the General Mahamatra (and the thought brought a vague sense of deja vu).
The note was short, and it simply said I see you’re enjoying my recommendation. Alhaitham huffed, thinking that was a silly observation. Still, he took the note and put it on his bedside table, with a small reply: we should discuss it. Friday? If it was anyone else, Alhaitham doubted they would see the response, but this was Cyno he was talking about: he was pretty sure the General Mahamatra had a secret bad habit of checking on those close to him whenever possible. Not that he ever left any evidence, but the faint crackle of Electro energy would sometimes flash in his vision on the mornings when Cyno had just returned from an investigation.
With that in mind, he resolutely kicked Kaveh out of the house the following Friday night. His roommate didn’t exactly go without complaining, but he had good reason to believe that Kaveh had gotten a grasp of the situation, because there was only some grumbling as Kaveh declared he’d be at the theater for a few hours and no longer than that. He could be perceptive at the strangest times; Alhaitham let himself be grateful for the consideration just this once.
He didn’t bother making dinner, only preparing some snacks. With how both of them could get when they started debating, Alhaitham doubted they would sit down long enough to have a proper meal. If push came to shove, they could just go to the tavern later.
True to his predictions, Cyno came in like a quiet hurricane, door swinging open and a rant already on his lips, his own copy of volume two of Beyond the Stars brandished like a weapon of mass destruction.
“First of all, you should stop leaving your door unlocked when I’m coming, I don’t care how confident you are in your fighting abilities,” he huffed. Cyno made a beeline for the kitchen counter, not even bothering with the sofa as he hopped onto it and narrowed his eyes at Alhaitham. “Tell me, what are your thoughts on the book?”
Alhaitham tried not to turn up his nose too much at the sight of Cyno’s butt planted on the kitchen counter. Instead, he snapped his gaze up at the General and crossed his arms.
“Why do I suddenly feel like this is an interrogation?”
“Because it is.”
“What, are you going to put me on the scales for holding the wrong opinion on your favorite novel, General?”
“Only if your opinion is truly so abhorrent, so I’d tread lightly.”
Alhaitham couldn’t hold back a snort. “Relax, my impression of it is mostly positive, you don’t need to look at me like an affronted animal.” He was sure that, had Cyno possessed such an appendage, his tail would be waving in the air like a cat preparing to pounce at the first sign of danger.
“‘Mostly.’”
“No work is ever perfect, there’s always room for improvement. You can consider it a downside to being human. There’s a lot to learn from its pitfalls, it’s a critical part of criticizing any piece of art.”
“Damn Haravatat scholar,” Cyno muttered, though he didn’t bother hiding it at all. “O Grand Scribe, impart your wisdom upon this mere mortal.”
“Careful, you’re dangerously close to sounding prejudiced, Cyno,” he scolded, smirking when it made Cyno scowl. “But if you really insist—”
He paused to reach into his pouch. Alhaitham unfolded a stack of papers, smoothing the wrinkles out with a hand.
“You took notes,” Cyno pointed out, his tone accusatory.
“Of course, I’m nothing if not diligent,” he said airily. Alhaitham perused his own hasty script to catch the gist of what had been going through his mind as he read through both books. “Oh, right. Looking back on the annotations I’ve made, my biggest issue was with how they presented the main character. While I can appreciate that he’s willing to do things that others wouldn’t, I think the author was too worried about making him likable.”
“Alhaitham, are you insane? The best part of the novel is the main character. His unorthodox thinking makes for more interesting outcomes in the plot! The story would never work with a more softhearted character—”
“It seems you weren’t listening. I’m not condemning his actions, I’m just saying that the blatant attempts at getting the readers’ sympathy breaks the immersion, and sours my enjoyment of his cunning intellect.”
“ You didn’t let me finish. Yes, the plot wouldn’t work with a simple, kind character. But it wouldn’t work with one who’s a simple, cruel villain either. It’s the nuance that makes him compelling. Otherwise, most of these emotional scenes wouldn’t work at all. I mean, look at the ending!” Cyno shoved the book in his face, somehow already open on just the right page. “Do you think Mizuki ending up stranded among the stars would’ve evoked any sadness or anguish if we, as readers, hadn’t been secretly rooting for him?”
“Of course, I agree completely. I’m just saying the writing isn’t exactly subtle. I don’t mind rooting for a character with a blackened heart, but the way the narrative is just short of saying ‘hey, don’t you feel bad for him?’ worked in the exact opposite direction. To be frank, I was hoping he would face his own demise by the end."
Cyno stared at him like he had grown a second head, or maybe blown up a children’s hospital with the kids still inside. He looked close to blowing a fuse, his face growing more and more red as he sputtered through a response. Alhaitham never knew all it took to fluster the General Mahamatra was to insult the writing in his favorite book, but now that he did, he promised himself to use that knowledge to the best of his advantage.
“I can’t believe you. This series has the most careful and touching writing I’ve seen in any novel, and you’re—” Cyno took a deep breath. His expression remained thunderous, but it was more a controlled storm now. “Here, I’ll prove it to you. Nothing but hard evidence would work on a thickheaded man like you.”
Despite his irritation, Cyno didn’t seem particularly venomous, his words not an insult but a simple affirmation of the truth. He snatched Alhaitham’s notes from his hands, reading it carefully with a stitch between his brows and his lips moving as he followed each word. Every so often, he would leaf through his book, surely cross referencing his rebuttals to make sure he had every detail correct before restarting the argument.
“Okay, I’ve grasped your thought process, and while I see where you’re coming from, I think you’re approaching this in the wrong way—”
“I think you should kiss me.”
They stared at each other. Cyno’s mouth was open, still in the middle of his sentence, though no other words crossed his lips. Bit by bit, his eyes widened, then his grip slackened. His book fell to the ground with a dull thump, and Alhaitham’s notes scattered across the kitchen. Cyno didn’t seem to notice either of those things, utterly frozen in place.
“What did you say…?”
Alhaitham sighed as he crouched to gather everything in his hands, careful not to crease the book cover any further. He frowned down at the stark line straight across the middle, and decided to buy Cyno a new copy as compensation.
“I thought I was pretty clear in my words. Is that not how this works?” He straightened up, eyebrows cocked. “Again, I think you should kiss me.”
It took a moment, but Cyno composed himself. First, he molded his expression into something a little less shell-shocked, the curve of his eyes softening. Then, he rolled his shoulders, sighed, and leaned forward with his chin on the palm of his hand. His head tilted as he considered Alhaitham—who, in that moment, realized all those mannerisms were endearing to him, when before they had simply existed in the back of his mind.
“Why now?” Cyno asked.
It was hard to define the trigger, the sudden snap like a fire sparking to life. Cyno had simply sat there, pouring over his notes like this was the most important thing in his life. He had considered each and every single one of Alhaitham’s points as someone who wanted to hold a conversation, not just win an argument. Then, clear as day, Alhaitham knew: he wanted this, and all of its complications. He was willing to fight for it, if necessary—with the same care and reckless strategy that he had used to save a nation.
“I’ve realized this isn’t so bad, I enjoy spending time with you,” he condensed, opting for the far simpler route of explanation. “Aside from the physicality of it, my biggest grievance with the prospect of being in a relationship was the emotional exhaustion that would come from being around another person all the time. Well, it turns out being with you doesn’t tire me out as much, and when it does, you don’t take it to heart when I tell you to pull away. Therefore, I think this could work.”
“And the,” Cyno licked his lips, eyes heavy, “‘physical’ parts?”
Alhaitham shrugged. “I’m still figuring that part out.”
“And you don’t have an issue with it, even if I want you?”
“Isn’t that normal?” He replied bluntly. Desire was something still as elusive to him as smoke, but he wasn’t a prude. Alhaitham would never scorn Cyno for wanting the person he loved, both in mind and in body. “Not that I would know much about it, honestly. But I understand some of it now, I think. Let me rephrase it: I want to kiss you, if you’d have me.”
“That’s an understatement,” Cyno laughed under his breath. He straightened up, arms open as he beckoned, “Come here, Alhaitham.”
Alhaitham did as instructed, stepping into the circle of Cyno's embrace. His thighs pressed against Alhaitham’s torso, caging him in. His hands wandered for a bit, tracing his arms all the way up to his neck, where they stayed in a loose hug. The whole time, he watched Alhaitham with the attention he usually only reserved to his work, eyes so red they looked like blood-stained gems.
“Is this okay?” He asked in the small space between them.
“For now,” Alhaitham replied, as this was the only certainty he had.
Despite the ambiguity of his response, Cyno nodded. He pressed his lips to Alhaitham’s cheek in experimentation. The touch tingled on his skin, but it wasn’t a bad sensation.
“Tell me to stop,” it was the last warning he got, before Cyno pressed their mouths together.
It all made sense, then. Not in the “fireworks exploded in his mind” kind of way, but Cyno was warm against him, and his lips were a bit chapped. Cyno made a little noise in the back of his throat, his breath catching as he opened his mouth. It was like none of the things Alhaitham already knew of Cyno—careful little details catalogued in his mind. No one else got to know Cyno like this, these were reactions reserved to Alhaitham alone. When he thought of that, it was easier to reciprocate, to catch his waist and hold on, to bask in the pure joy that Cyno radiated.
Alhaitham knew, now, why he kept thinking Cyno was safe : he felt like home, with how easy their bodies fell into each other.
He felt a smile pressed against his mouth and pulled away; Cyno’s expression was sheepish, like he might be laughing at himself a little.
“You know, it took me a bit to come to terms with the fact that even if we were to get together, we may not want the same thing, or in the same way,” Cyno admitted. “Once I got over myself, I decided we could definitely make it work, with some patience. I’m okay with going at your pace, or, that's what I was trying to say with all those not-quite-dates. Now that it has actually worked, I’m not too sure what to do with myself.”
Cute . Not a word he used often, but one that was becoming more familiar to him. Alhaitham understood why everyone was so eager to fall in love; he could become addicted to the flutter in his chest when Cyno shyly caught his hands.
“Unlike in your novel, I was really rooting for the protagonists of this story,” Alhaitham joked. “In this case, I wouldn’t be against a ‘happily ever after.’”
For a moment, it looked like Cyno might protest or take drastic measures against that comment. Instead, he changed his mind at the last minute and gnawed on Alhaitham’s cheek, rhough not without leaving a soothing kiss on the sore spot.
“I think I like the sound of ‘to be continued’ better,” he suggested.
It had a nice ring to it, Alhaitham thought; a story without an ending, with room for a sequel, the opportunity for things to change. Alhaitham rubbed his forehead against Cyno’s, closing his eyes.
For now, though, he quite liked this ending.