Chapter Text
Laptop set down on a desk, vermillion eyes scanned through every face in the lecture hall in an attempt of committing them all to memory.
“... Good morning, everyone.” Dainty lips curl up into a smile at last. “I am Professor Kaveh, and I will be your lecturer this semester for the module of History and Theory of Architecture.”
An instant wave of awed gasps and hushed whispers sweep across the small sea of students; from this reaction alone, it serves as substantial proof of how Kaveh’s reputation precedes him. ‘Light of Kshahrewar,’ he overhears one of them, bittersweetness swells within him at the granted title from their university.
“Moving on,” he tries to settle down the hall, and begins to plug an HDMI cable into his laptop for the projector to duplicate his screen. “I believe there is a mixture of juniors and seniors here; majority of you are in second year, and a minority in first and final year. I think a few of you here are not from the Kshahrewar department either. So, before we begin, I’d like to get to know each and every one of you— you will come to the front, and tell us your name, your department, which year you are in, your aspirations and how it is related to my module.”
Nervousness paints a plenty of the students’ features, but Kaveh does not blame them; in university, there is bound to be many kinds of personality, but their ability to present themselves in a confident manner is an important development for both characters and grades. “What’s this? Nervous already? We haven’t even started individual presentations yet.” Kaveh chuckles and leans forward to place his hands on the desk. The professor now hopes to create a warm, friendly radiating aura which hopefully eases up the building tension.
“With all due respect, sir,” one girl pipes up, snatching his focus; a confident student, Kaveh notes with a smile. “You are the esteemed Light of Kshahrewar, understandably some of us here would be quite nervous to be talking in front of you.”
“Is that so?” The professor hums, chin tapped in contemplation. Slowly but surely, a mischievous grin settles on his face. “Then, why don’t we start with you? Please come down to the front and introduce yourself to everyone.”
The crowd greets her welcoming stage with claps. The student is quite petite, her pale blue hair split into two pigtails glimmer under the projector’s spotlight. She dons a haughty expression, wearing the pride only a scholar would have. “My name is Faruzan, a student from the Haravatat department. I am in my final year, and I am not here for my outside faculty breadth since I have already met the graduation requirements two semesters ago.” Her introduction earns stares and coos of amazement.
“Oh, how interesting.” Muses the architecture professor He turns to the audience, “is anyone else here from the Haravatat department?”
No one raises their hands.
“How about final year students?”
Only three people lift their hands to which Kaveh nods in recognition. “So, why did you take my module, Faruzan? You already fulfilled your modular credits requirements.” Kaveh backpedals his attention to her, quite curious himself.
“Actually… I don’t know what other modules to take,” blatantly discloses the girl, and this response is what makes the hall begin clamoring with bursts of unrestrained laughter– as Kaveh laughs along, he already knows he will have a surely delightful time teaching this class.
The class then passes by in a blur, and as the students begin to disperse, Kaveh starts packing up to move most of his items to his office. Earlier that morning, the blond unfortunately did not have the opportunity to even spare his own workspace a visit due to rush hour at the subway when people were scurrying to work; with only a few minutes to spare before he’d be considered tardy on his first day, Kaveh clocked in his attendance with a signature before heading straight to his class. So, here he is again with a comically large bundle of things in both arms, when a short figure steps up to him.
“Perhaps I could help you with carrying your things, Professor Kaveh? I do not have any class after this.”
Kaveh blinks down at an expectant Faruzan. For a moment, he nearly hesitates at the offer, considering how tiny the girl is; after all, Kaveh is a tall man, he may not be as buff as Alhaitham, but he is not so weak to handle a few weighty boxes despite his slender frame. Before he gets any word out, Faruzan is already aiding the professor in picking up a box on the desk, displaying a surprising amount of strength packed in her petite body. “Please do lead the way, professor.”
Kaveh is not so discourteous to let her help without a word of gratitude. “Thank you, Faruzan. Do follow me, my office is just a few buildings away from here.”
Of course, this student would note down a remark on this as demonstrated herself throughout the whole lecture. “Were you planning to come here back and forth, or are you the type to try and lift everything in one go?”
An amused smile crawls onto his face; he is quite fond of this girl’s character. “The former, I don’t quite mind the walk.” Soon, the pair makes their way out into the long corridor which connects almost every part of the campus. In order to avoid any awkward silence, Kaveh smoothly oscillates the conversation to another topic. “Are you perhaps a member of the university’s student representative council?” He asks, eyes trailing to the student by his side. Upon noticing that his long legs are making him pace faster than the other, he slows down than usual.
“No,” Faruzan answers, “but close enough.”
This makes Kaveh peer down at her in question. “Close enough? Hm… part of the executive committees then.”
“Nope.” The sly smirk does not escape the professor’s attention, but her reply is what irks him more.
“No..? But there are no other associations affiliated to the student represent–” Cogs and wheels turn in his head for a few seconds before they finally click in place. Oh. Kaveh staggers to a full stop, eyes widening on the girl— no, woman with a deceiving youth-like appearance.
“... You are not a student.” He says, stupefied, and Faruzan’s grin confirms his suspicions.
“You caught on.” Forced to a halt, Faruzan finally spins around to give herself a proper introduction. “Madam Faruzan, professor from the Haravatat department. I am usually the one delegated to the task of overseeing new recruits. It is a pleasure to meet you, professor.”
“So, you came to my class to observe me.” On his first day too, he would add but chooses to forego in favor of asking the next question out of curiosity. “Well, what did you think?”
“Spectacular. I say this with every ounce of sincerity.” Faruzan praises him, and this time, their journey resumes with her taking the lead, Kaveh trudging behind her at a respectable distance. “Not everyone is meant for the teaching profession, it often shows on the first day where their disinterest is expressed in various ways. You, on the other hand, your passion shines through– your dive into the introduction to the course was impressive. I could already tell that all the students will be paying rapt attention to your lessons from now on. People often underestimate how the first day of class will dictate the rest of the semester.”
“Why, that is a big compliment. You flatter me, Professor Faruzan.” Kaveh sheepishly laughs.
“Madam Faruzan.” She corrects him, to which he obliges by referring her to said title.
Participating in a conversation with Madam Faruzan turns out to be quite enjoyable and insightful despite her proud-like demeanor. In the short duration of their walk, she fills him in on anything that is not brought up during the interview nor mentioned in paper; about a form he needs to submit in a week to the government in order to be properly recognized as a teacher, but reassures Kaveh that the university will hand it in on his behalf.
By the time they arrive at Kaveh’s office, he opens to a bare white room with the bare minimum necessities: a desk, a chair, a shelf, a stationary holder, and an air conditioner. Good thing he has been given a free reign to decorate his office as seen fit. Faruzan helps to set down the two boxes and a few bags in her arms on the desk, while Kaveh places the rest he has been carrying onto the ground.
“Would you like me to help you unpack?”
“Ah, there’s no need!” Kaveh goes up to her side and starts to open one of the boxes on his desk himself. “I can take it from here, Madam Faruzan, I’d rather not occupy too much of your time.” He trails off, reaching in to pull them out a random object. What he does not expect is a certain item that would have him gaping like a fish.
The ever curious and bold Faruzan tiptoes to look at what Kaveh is holding, and her astonishment quickly turns into one of excitement. “Is that your husband?!” She squeals delightfully, snatching the picture frame out of Kaveh’s hands to have a proper closer look. “Wait, this looks like my junior. You’re married to my junior?”
“M-married—” Kaveh splutters, a deep shade of red unfurling from his cheeks down to his neck. Fueled by embarrassment, he snatches back the frame from Faruzan and clutches it tight against his chest. “No, no! We are not married! He’s not my husband!”
Faruzan tilts her chin in amusement. “But in that picture, he was wearing a suit and you were in a wedding dress.”
“It was a Halloween gathering!” Kaveh defends, all shaky, “We were matching!”
“So, a couple? Of all things, you need to match a wedding theme.”
“No! Well, yes at the time, but now we are just— we are just..!” He scrambles only to finish lamely, “... Acquaintances.”
Crossed arms tells the professor that the madam knows there is more tale to be told behind the picture along with Kaveh’s own words. The absence of talk afterwards is strangely deafening. Kaveh fiddles with the frame for a moment before he sighs and puts it on the desk. He glowers at the cause of his predicament, cursing it for appearing out of nowhere to have him presently be forced into a cornerstone by his own superior.
Inside the image is him and Alhaitham at a halloween party where the couple at the time decided to dress up with inspirations derived from the Corpse Bride movie. This was during their third year of studying, too; they had been so young and naively in love, so reckless with their emotions and words towards each other, until the first quarter of their final year had them torn apart due to differences in academic views. Two years later, they reunited at a seminar where the duo had been invited to give their speech, and from there, the fire between them rekindled.
Only for that fire to extinguish again three years later for the second time.
Now?
Now, they are both in their early thirties; one who already has the future ahead figured out and is about to settle down with a lifetime partner, while the other one still needs to get his shit together. Kaveh heaves in a sharp inhale, refusing to tumble a disgraceful descent into an enormous pit hole in front of his colleague.
At the very least, he finds comfort in his starting profession. It shows that there is some progress in his life, no matter how late.
“My apologies. I got ahead of myself there by intruding on your privacy and personal life when we have only just met each other.” Faruzan effectively grounds Kaveh back onto earth, an apologetic look on her face. “It’s okay, you’re not inclined to tell me anything, so don’t worry.”
The man looks away, tight-lipped for five to six seconds. He decides to divulge some information; he still did owe her some favor in return for the woman’s kind assistance on a trip to his office. “This man…” Kaveh says, a distant look in his eyes. “He is… someone dear to me, someone special.”
Faruzan’s gaze grows tender. “Thank you.” She says, and does not press any more than she should have on the matter, sparing Kaveh from any further spiraling; she decides to take her leave from his office, but only after exchanging her number with him so she can keep in contact for work purposes. Door gently shut, Kaveh now stands alone in a minimalistic room. His work mode kicks in and the man begins to rearrange and add life to the blank canvas that’s his office. The files go here, the papers go there, a PVC cloth table swamps over his desk– soon, he has laid down the basic foundation for an aesthetic space. He smiles satisfactorily to himself. Nothing is out of place, nothing at all except– his gaze falls back onto the picture that sits on his wheeled chair.
Like this, the golden light of Kshahrewar and an encased polaroid from the past both begin their glaring contest.
“How the fuck did you even get into my box,” Kaveh mutters aloud, picking up the casing from his seat. Unfortunately, his scowl will not intimidate the picture into talking.
A proceeding glance at the ticking clock he hangs up on the wall informs Kaveh he has half an hour left until the afternoon class. Picking up his bag and files, the air conditioner turned off, Kaveh takes his office keys and locks the door, intending to return straight back home once the class ends.
He leaves behind the framed memory of him and Alhaitham on his desk.
…
Dusk colors the sky in a mesmerizing shade of red, orange and purple. Work sadly did not grant the golden-haired man leisure to head to his bode straight after class; there are more documents and references for him to retrieve as per text from Madam Faruzan that same day. Once all is settled, he ambles his way home when his phone dings with a notification. He has assumed it might be from her again, but the name on screen has him surprised.
Just his luck.
Kaveh’s thumbs hover above the keyboard, mulling over what to say.
He thinks back to the past few days where after his unsightly breakdown in his housemate’s company has led him to spin cotton wheels of imaginary tension in the air, the desperation in his flesh impelling avoidance. Except, living in Alhaitham’s house itself already makes the task daunting, but the person himself adds more difficulty.
That day, in a need for a toilet break after hours of self-isolation, Kaveh opened the door to find a plastic bag hanging onto the handle like its lifeline. Inside were the cartons of ink he needed for his printer. It did not end there— a container of food on a coffee table was also set to the side of his doorway. Such a profound act had proven doing further damage to his already fallen heart. Then the next three days passed where their paths did not cross as Alhaitham had been on daytime shifts in that duration which was a merciful remuneration for Kaveh’s distress; by the time Alhaitham came home, Kaveh would already be in bed, but of course, he was not so heartless to let his housemate return starved with no plates of food in sight. (And in return, Kaveh woke up to breakfast prepared by Alhaitham before he set off to work.)
Too long, didn’t read? Long story short, Kaveh had avoided Alhaitham for those three days before the new week began… and admittedly, still is. Anything to not let those feelings resurface ever again.
Fate is definitely sneering at him, pulling strings on him left and right. Like a helpless marionette, Kaveh can’t evade Alhaitham anymore, not now, not tonight, not unless he was willing to sleep outside for eight or more hours. So, in the end, he types out an ‘okay’ to Alhaitham and redirects his journey to the nearest substation for the hospital.
It takes thirty minutes or so later for him to send his housemate another text after slipping out of the last train.
Thus, that is where Kaveh waits. Most people don't like hospitals; Kaveh is an outlier. Strange, you may say, but it is the intrinsic purpose behind hospitals’ existence that mainly appeals to him– to give hope, to cure, and to better everyone’s lives. Sumeru thankfully is one of the few nations that offers both free education and healthcare access to its citizens, which means regardless of backgrounds, none will be denied these basic commodities. Perhaps a bare minimum for a nation, but it brings relief to the blond when he thinks that a patient somewhere among the queueing crowd has no need to worry about harboring debts for the sake of recovery. Then, in his heart, Kaveh prays these nameless strangers a fast recovery.
He peels his eyes away from them to start surveying the building’s condition– it’s a habit of his, assessing as an architect. Given how long it has been in operation, it isn’t a surprise to see some harmless chips in the walls, the wear and tear of the minimal outdated decorations.
“Kaveh,” a familiar soul-tingling voice catches his attention.
“Alhaitham,” Kaveh croaks in return, eye dots choosing to pinpoint on the surgeon’s moonlight-kissed hair instead of directly meeting his gaze. “Um… keys please?”
Alhaitham brandishes and dangles it in front of him wordlessly. Kaveh takes it as a sign to retrieve it, so he steps forward to snatch it– only to grasp at specks of air. He clumsily stumbles forward as a result, but Alhaitham manages to catch him in his hold despite the outstretched arm. Like skin to a burnt surface, Kaveh reflexively steps back to retain some distance between them— and he glares.
The smug asshole has an audacity to smirk at him. “Well, what are you waiting for? Take the keys.”
He should not rise to this bait, he should not rise to this bait. He jumps anyway, insisting on their distance, but he still can’t quite reach for the keys when Alhaitham keeps moving his hand around. “You prick. Stop teasing me.” Kaveh mutters, mouth twitching. Again, he tries to hop for the key, but the damn bastard is purposely stretching his arm backwards even further. They may be the same height, but he’s clearly taking advantage of their small gap that Kaveh refuses to cross!
Frustrated, Kaveh snarls. “Will you just give me the keys now?”
“That depends.” Alhaitham arches his eyebrow. “Will you stop avoiding me now?”
Abandoning his initial resolve, he plants a firm hand on Alhaitham’s shoulder (he absolutely does not flinch how Alhaitham puts his other palm on Kaveh’s waist) and jumps again— and finally, he manages to snatch the rattling object.
Keys successfully in hand, Kaveh now fully intends to stalk back off with a flipping gesture to his captor, if it isn’t for that grip on his thin waist keeping him in place, a vice-like strength which he knows won't be easy to shake off.
“Kaveh.” A silent command freezes him on spot, coating him in poisoned honeysuckle. “I’d like you to tell me what I said or did wrong to you. Please.”
Ah, shit.
Shit.
Now is certainly not the right time for another confrontation, not when they’re in public and their little childish antics have already captured interest from bystanders for archon’s sake.
That hand on his waist has no reason to perfectly slot against his curves when it is scorching him up deep within.
Kaveh stays quiet, adamant on avoiding Alhaitham’s gaze in fear he loses control again of the poorly built dam holding back his tsunami feelings. ‘Everything,’ he wishes to say everything is wrong; from the way Alhaitham needlessly spoils him more than ever by buying any single thing that Kaveh mentions, to the way the man stares at him with the same raw fondness in his eyes— no! Come on, think rationally, Kaveh, think! Alhaitham is already engaged with someone else, someone you don’t even know who, someone that is not you, BECAUSE ALHAITHAM IS NO LONGER IN LOVE WITH YOU—
One of his cheeks suddenly meets something warm. Something soft, something comforting. Kaveh blinks through the tears and heavy breathing he isn’t even aware he has given a corporeal form to, vision clearing up to an Alhaitham only a warm breath away. Despite how much they liked to participate in lengthy debates, wordless conversations are their forte now and then. When seeking for reassurance, the pair often lets their silent presence do the magic charm rather than weaving words, grounding the other back to reality with imaginary negative clutches whisked away.
“Breathe.” Alhaitham says, and Kaveh obliges, unknowing of the suspended air in his lungs as the emerald sea and tinged sunset in the man’s eyes have swept it all away. Not long after, the living masterpiece himself says again, “Breathe, Kaveh.”
So, he breathes. In and out, in and out, countlessly, eyes boring into Alhaitham’s own the whole time. Once deemed pacified enough by the other, Alhaitham gently fixes aside Kaveh’s sticky bangs and pulls away.
It takes a great amount of self-restraint for Kaveh to not pull him back in close.
“When you get back home,” Alhaitham informs him, “there should be food awaiting you. I did not get to cook a proper meal for you in time, so I ordered some take-out for you instead.”
Dumbfounded, Kaveh gapes. Unable to hold back any longer, a gnawing question from the back of his mind finally tips over, “why are you doing so much for me?”
To which the surgeon has seemed genuinely taken aback by his quizzical statement. “Do I need a reason?”
“Of course, you do! You can’t– you can’t just do all these– these – sweet romantic things for me when you already have a—” Kaveh hisses, and his eyes snap down to point out the engagement ring on Alhaitham’s hand—
He finds none.
Not on his right, and neither is it on any fingers from his left.
It makes Kaveh screech to a staggering halt, a visibly bemudded yet distraught expression disrupting his beautiful features. Has Kaveh ever even seen Alhaitham wearing a ring at any single point of their shared time together? Why, what does this mean? Could this mean that Alhaitham is not getting wed after all? It would explain everything which points to the lack of a special person’s involvement. If that is the case however, Kaveh is certain that Tighnari would have reached out to him again.
“When I already have a, what?” Alhaitham prods at him.
Kaveh clenches his teeth. He wants to look away again but he can’t. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”
Then for the first time in weeks of being in each other’s space, a splash of annoyance is evinced on Alhaitham’s face. “Kaveh, it is extremely irritating how you constantly throw questions my way without the courtesy of even finishing any of those sentences.”
“Well, maybe that’s because it means that I had second thoughts before actually finishing what I wanted to say, you jerk.”
“So, you mean to say that you do not think twice before saying anything?”
“But I managed to stop myself in time that you don’t even know what I want to ask, didn’t I? So, what exactly are you taking offense at here?”
“– Doctor Alhaitham!” A panicking voice intrudes them, oblivious to the rising tension. Kaveh finally breaks the heated glaring contest to regard the person’s appearance for a bit. The new appearance is a nurse based on the outfit worn, and likely novice judging from his nerve-wrecking mannerisms.
“Yes, Hasan?” Alhaitham questions the newcomer, albeit his stare does not stray away a single inch from Kaveh’s face.
Hasan fumbles with his words, hands fidgeting. “The- the Surgery Chief would like to have a word with you regarding a patient’s case. He implores you to visit his office as soon as possible.”
“Understood. I will be there in a few minutes. Leave.”
The nurse does not need to be told twice. Hasan scampers away like a defeated dog with a tail tucked between its legs— it’s such a pitiful sight that it makes Kaveh snort. “The poor guy, you’re clearly scaring him out of his wits. I won’t be surprised if your other colleagues react the same. Doctor Alhaitham, it might be in your best interest to learn how to be more approachable.”
“I never was nor do I intend to be so in the near future.” Alhaitham’s gaze flickering to the side is the man’s own unique way of rolling his eyes.
Kaveh scoffs. Here he is starting to think that his ex-partner has changed for the better; but clearly, that is not quite the case with how little regard he holds for his co-workers. “You should go ahead and meet your superior. I myself need to head back too.” His feet begin to shuffle, the heels of his footwear click-clacks with the tiled floor.
“Mn,” Alhaitham mercifully agrees with him for once tonight. “I will see you tomorrow.”
To any other person, this may pass off as a normal statement. To Kaveh however, it’s a message well-received; it is Alhaitham’s way of saying, you will stop avoiding me from now on. He shudders on the way home, wondering what the man has in mind.
…
The next breakfast, Kaveh waits by the countertop, waiting for the light-burnt toasts to pop up from the machine. By the time it does, it is in accordance with a click of a door and rustling sounds of unfastened shoes which should signal a certain surgeon’s return. Plastering a smile, Kaveh turns when those footsteps lead to an emerging figure by the kitchen’s doorway.
“Good morning! I made you some–”
“I’ll drive you to the campus.”
“–breakfast…” Kaveh finishes with a deadpan.
Alhaitham offers no explanation. He simply takes out his favorite mug from the shelf and helps himself to the hot coffee which Kaveh has recently brewed.
Only the sounds of pouring liquid and a yawn take up the kitchen’s empty space.
“How unbelievably straightforward of you.” Kaveh says, perpetuating an unamused look.
“I did say that I will see you.”
“Yes, see. As in: By sight, meet and greet. Not this.” Kaveh gestures around vaguely. “Need I remind you that you also just got back not even ten minutes after arriving? Only Lord Kusanali knows how depraved you must be feeling right now.”
“I will be off-duty until tomorrow.” The surgeon sips from his cup, believing it to be the most sensible irrefutable explanation. “That said, I will also pick you up from the campus later. There will be plenty of rest for me to take in between.”
“Unbelievable.” The lecturer sighs, shaking his head. Not much of an exchange takes place afterwards, no need to prolong your suffering when a losing debate is a hundred percent fatality. That, and quite frankly, Kaveh does fancy the thought of avoiding the rush crowd with less walking. Not that he would ever admit this. Gathering up his items for work on the couch near the entrance’s corridor, he bids a napping Mehrak a goodbye peck on her head and follows after Alhaitham who guides him outside to the garage.
When the golden haired slides into the passenger seat with the silver latter behind the steering wheels, and then, it only hits Kaveh then, that this would be his first time sitting alone in the same car as Alhaitham after a long while. It’s one thing to be living under the same roof as your ex, but to be confined in a limited intimate space like this? He might as well just walk into a lion’s den at this rate.
Some form of nostalgia washes over him. The car is as unchanging as the inside of their home is, it truly feels like not even a shred of minute has passed since the last time he laid his perceptive eyes on them. If Kaveh spots a red hair clip in a cup holder belonging to him from years ago, he does not say anything.
(Nor does he bring up another strange absence of this mysterious fiancé who should be leaving hints of claims in every space that belongs to the doctor.)
“Honestly, l thought you would have gotten a new car by now with how much you’re earning.” Kaveh chooses to focus on another topic, adjusting the AC for the cold air to blow at his face.
Alhaitham pulls the brake and the driving gear down. “It’s unnecessary to get a new car when this one’s still working perfectly fine. The car could be looking ramshackle, but if there are no faulty parts in the engine, I don’t see why I should stop using it.”
Kaveh quite agrees with that sentiment. Further discerning the car interior, he finds that the only change here is the scent. Recently, Alhaitham has seemingly taken more liking to scents resembling refreshing sea breeze at a beach instead of his usual sandalwood; which is ironic, considering how the man as an avid shut-in reader despises the water as well as the sand.
Their ride throughout to the University of Sumeru is oddly peaceful yet precarious.
At one point, Kaveh pulls down the car’s visor to inspect his reflection. And damn his past decisions are really coming back to bite him in the ass— Kaveh being the photogenic one out of the two had always insisted on snapshotting their moments together. And it’s one of those polaroid collages between him and Alhaitham taped next to the mirror. He pretends nothing but air is there.
The drop-off shuttle at the campus’s entrance comes into view, and Kaveh readies his bags to glide out of the door the minute they arrive. “Thank you for sending me again,” Kaveh’s smile is slightly strained as he exits the car, “Also, you don’t have to pick me up later—”
The glowering that Alhaitham directs at him is akin to a blizzard at the top of a snow capped mountain.
Kaveh immediately remedies his phrase, “What time are you picking me up later?”
“I will be here by five if that’s not too late.” Alhaitham responds, approving the quick fix.
“Five,” Kaveh repeats with a nod. “Five is good.”
Alhaitham then bids a, “See you soon.”
To which Kaveh parrots him as well, “Yeah, see you soon.”
Commence the second day of his lecturer profession at the University of Sumeru.
…
Weeks pass by and Kaveh gets more anxious.
Alhaitham’s fiancé has yet to make their appearance in front of Kaveh, which gives him another startling revelation that the aspiring architect does not know when their wedding will be held. So, it’s admittedly out of panic when he pings Tighnari again.
Not long after, Tighnari’s text comes through. ‘oh, that’s a little sudden. it’s on september 10th, why do you ask?’
Kaveh’s phone clamors to the ground, jolting a sleeping Mehrak wide awake with flabbergasted expression.
September 10th. The day that Alhaitham announces his marriage to the world is on September 10th. To make matters even worse, that is the pair’s past anniversary date, commemorating the day when they got together. In about a month, Alhaitham is marrying some unknown person on the one date forever to be embedded into Kaveh’s personal calendar, completely overwriting the significance.
Kaveh feels hurt, heartbroken, but most of all, betrayed. Even if they are no longer together, Alhaitham should know how much this date holds importance in Kaveh’s heart. To marry someone else on their former anniversary feels like a rub of salt into his wounds, as if Alhaitham is trying to promulgate to Kaveh how he is no longer tied down to their history together, and Kaveh is certain that the man already knows the lingering love that the gold still has for the silver.
Fists clenched, Kaveh decides that he can’t delay the question any longer. Pushing back the swelling heated moisture in his eyes, Kaveh stomps his way out of his room. A confused Mehrak pursues after him.
Every stamp rings like thunder. Every meter closed in towards Alhaitham’s bedchamber is another shove bringing him to bay at a high cliff’s end.
Knock, knock, knock.
Silence.
Knock, knock, knock!
Nothing. Has Alhaitham gone to work without informing Kaveh? Even Mehrak is meowing in confusion.
Knock, knock, knock?
A rustling sound behind the door induces a popped vein on Kaveh’s forehead. No, the bastard is cozied up in his room.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK –
An irritated Alhaitham sighing exasperatedly greets Kaveh at the opening. “May I know why you are behaving with such belligerence towards my–”
“How long do you plan to keep it from me?” Kaveh cuts him mid-way with a hiss. “How long do you plan to play me around?”
There is no answer save for narrowing eyes. Alhaitham crosses his arms, an action which the older man mimics after. “Do elaborate.”
Kaveh scoffs. “Playing dumb now, are we.”
“Hardly,” Alhaitham replies, infuriatingly calm and composed. “I am simply trying to gauge out more details when you come up to me raging expecting me to immediately know why.”
Vexed, Kaveh raises his voice. “Are you seriously trying to get me to spell it all out for you?!”
Mockingly, Alhaitham apologizes. “I beg your pardon for not being a mind reader.”
“Okay, let’s start from the beginning, shall we?” Kaveh glares.
“You,” Kaveh jabs a finger at Alhaitham’s unyielding chest, “offered me to stay at your house, no expectations for anything in return. You made a room for Mehrak, buying everything there is for her. You also kept everything I left behind, whether in the house or the car. You keep all our pictures up. You make me food, you buy things for me, you send and pick me up from university, and you know exactly what you’re doing to me!”
There’s a glint in Alhaitham’s expression, but Kaveh does not know what. “Oh? Do pray tell. What exactly am I doing to you, Professor Kaveh?”
It hurts.
The said professor inhales shakily. From the tip of his golden-brown strands to the tip of his toes, everywhere trembles with hurt. It hurts to be constantly driven into the corner, forced to open up by divulging each and every single thing that eats him up inside; he’s lost countless times he’s been catapulted into such situations.
“You know damn well what you’re doing.” Kaveh whispers, peeling away his finger from the chest when Alhaitham’s hand forcibly restrains him there in place. Then, in another whisper much lower than the prior, “You’re already aware of my feelings, aren’t you..?”
Quietude settles in between them, an uncertain premonition or auspication.
“You do, and you know that it’s wrong,” Kaveh reprimands him. “So, I want to hear it from your own mouth. Tell me, Alhaitham. What is this thing you’ve invited all our other friends to, that you did not invite me to?”
“... You know about it.” is all that Alhaitham says, undoubtedly a confirmation, and it’s everything yet nothing that Kaveh wants to hear.
“So, it’s true then.”
“It is.” And it’s the way that Alhaitham says it so casually. As if all the things he has done beforehand means completely nothing.
What’s left of Kaveh’s million shattered pieces of a broken heart has been cracked into further smithereens. Laying at their feet are billions of golden stardust; Kaveh’s heart is like a star that has met its end.
Kaveh yanks his hand away from Alhaitham’s, and he keeps his head down.
“Then, why?” He continues to tremble with a hot surge of overwhelming betrayal and sadness. “Why would you do all those things? Things that you know will be poison to my heart. Why would you try to feed me hope when you know it’s hopeless?”
Then, finally, Kaveh finishes with a, “how could you be so cruel?”
Alhaitham does not respond. For a man who often has an equipped comeback ready for every debate, he doesn't say anything.
“Kaveh,” He hears the other call out to him, and he cannot muster the energy to slap those hands away from taking his into theirs. Genuinely, Kaveh is tired of caving in into the temptations brought about by anger. “This weekend, there will be an engagement dinner party.”
His heart is a winter wonderland by now with how much coldness and numbness has seeped into body. But, with Alhaitham’s next words, his heart might as well be labeled as Teyvat’s coldest and loneliest region next to Dragonspine.
“There, you and the others will meet my spouse-to-be.” Alhaitham lays the truth bare on the table. “Please come. I want you to meet him.”
Ah, so it’s another man.
As if in a million years, he would ever go– is what Kaveh wants to say when his head snaps up and sees a desperation far much more devastating than any sorrowful looks he’d seen on Alhaitham’s face his entire life.
It’s from here on out, Kaveh suddenly realizes that as much as he’s hurting, he does not want Alhaitham to fall victim to such fate. Yes, although his heart got played, at the end of the day, Alhaitham is still the reason why he has a roof over his head. That said, with the recent revelation, Kaveh does not know where to go. Clearly there are so many future things to take into consideration, such as where would he go once Alhaitham’s spouse inevitably settles into the house– but for now, Kaveh supposes a disclosure is what he needs in order to move on, in order to start a fresh new beginning.
So maybe he can start by seeing who this person is that has captured Alhaitham’s heart. He will see who this person is that Alhaitham has chosen and entrusted his happiness to in sickness, life and death.
And maybe, just maybe, once Kaveh gets to witness Alhaitham smiling and chuckling happily with that person in his safe arms, would the man finally get to close this chapter and put it behind him once and for all.
So, Kaveh nods, wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak lest he ends up in becoming another unsightly mess before Alhaitham.
A treacherous familiar voice that likes to feed him negative thoughts then surfaces in mind. ‘Perhaps this might be part of the reasons why you’re not chosen, Kaveh.’ It says, jeering and taunting him. Worst of all, he could not refute it; after all, how many times has he fallen subject to his saturated emotions, rendering him an easy puppet to channel their reactions to?
Kaveh wishes he isn’t so volatile in the face of human sentiments, emotions, feelings, and all the synonyms alike. Wearing his heart on his sleeves, this is the phrase most of his close friends like to use when describing the man.
Maybe then, just maybe, Alhaitham would have chosen him.
The scene from their last break-up replays in his head: “I knew you’d react this way,” Alhaitham had said, revealing that the blond’s tendency to let his sentimental side get ahead is the reason why the silver man chose not to tell him.
After a long, long, contemplation, Kaveh finally concedes. “... Okay.” He braves himself to look his housemate in the eye.
Alhaitham’s stiff shoulders loosen up. But even then, his face still seems grim, even as the engaged man expresses his appreciation for Kaveh’s confirming attendance. “Thank you, Kaveh. Your presence will truly mean a lot.”
“If that’s the case, why didn’t you invite me earlier?”
Alhaitham looks away. “... I have no excuse. But believe me when I said I did intend to do so, I was simply trying to find the right timing.”
A snort comes from Kaveh, “Well, your right timing has led me to become the last person to know what exactly have you been up to in life. Again.”
“I will reiterate once again that I do not have an excuse.”
“As long as you are aware. But please don’t keep anything like this from me anymore, not when it’s something that makes you happy. Regardless, I’m happy for you.” Kaveh fakes a beam– they both know very well however that the smile and those honey-coated words don’t reach his eyes. He continues then, forcing to spill the words even if it stabs at his soul, now that his heart has evaporated into air. “Congratulations to you for finding the love of your life, Alhaitham. I’m glad that you have found your happiness.”
Even if it’s at the expense of Kaveh’s own happiness.