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It’s no secret that Kaveh is popular. As the Light of Kshahrewar, as a person, and, Alhaitham supposes, as someone one would be interested in in a slightly more-than-platonic way. It’s no secret that the renowned architect is famous not just for his work.
As is aptly demonstrated right now in what is a regular occurrence during TCG nights in their friend group; Kaveh, who went to the bar to get more drinks, has already been stopped twice by people wanting to talk to him. The enamoured young man taking up Kaveh’s time right now is the third. Not that Alhaitham has been counting.
The young man must have said something amusing, because Kaveh’s pearl-like laughter is loud enough to reach back to their table. His head is thrown back as he laughs without abandon. Kaveh is shining bright, blooming like a flower under gentle sunlight.
When did Kaveh last laugh like that in front of Alhaitham?
Alhaitham, unknowingly, clenches the cards in his hands tighter.
“Are you okay?” Cyno’s low voice snaps him out of his rumination.
“Mn,” he acknowledges emotionlessly, but Cyno and Tighnari are still peering at him with concern. He frowns at them and gestures to the table for them to continue with TCG.
Before they can ask him anything, Kaveh sits down in a whirlwind of red cape. “Phew,” he sighs, as he passes out their drinks.
Alhaitham bites his tongue, just so he won’t say anything untoward, such as “had fun basking in the attention of strangers?” or “why don’t you smile like that in front of me anymore?”
“Took you long enough,” he settles for, and predictably Kaveh is set off on a rant about how ungrateful his junior is, and maybe His Highness should get his own drinks from now on. Alhaitham half listens, staring intensely at his shitty hand of healing food cards, just so he won’t have to see Cyno and Tighnari’s odd looks directed at him.
***
It has always been like this. People look their way when Alhaitham and Kaveh go out together, despite Kaveh’s efforts to stay out of the public eye when he’s not working. This is despite the fact Kaveh seems to be allergic to using his indoor voice in Alhaitham’s presence; the effect is that they are, obviously, noticed. Kaveh often thinks people are scrutinising him professionally or judging him for residing with a colleague, ever sensitive to other people’s opinions.
Alhaitham knows otherwise.
They do their shopping together, Kaveh inviting himself yet again to join Alhaitham’s grocery run. They stop at stalls, Kaveh poking and prodding at fruit to find the ripest and sweetest, turning over all the trinkets to see how they were designed. The vendors, rather than being annoyed, strike up conversations with him happily.
They pass by a flower stall, and Kaveh pauses in his tracks. He tugs on the crook of Alhaitham’s arm, his palm emitting a comforting warmth through Alhaitham’s gloves. It’s gone all too soon as they approach the stall.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” Kaveh says breathlessly. Alhaitham is inclined to agree, though he thinks bouquets of flowers are rather impractical, given that they tend to die after a few days.
Kaveh tuts when Alhaitham voices this opinion.
“Don’t be such a pessimist. The fact that they are beautiful is value enough, it doesn’t matter how long they last!”
“I am not being pessimistic, rather I am stating the truth. Even with the most tender care, cut flowers wilt and die after a few days.”
If it was flowers Kaveh wanted, they could easily gather some themselves. Wild flowers would be more sentimental than purchased ones, more fitting of the philosophies that Kaveh holds onto dearly. But even more so than flowers, something more permanent would suit Kaveh even better, Alhaitham thinks; something with a flower motif, such as a brooch or a hairpin, would satisfy Kaveh’s love of beautiful things, with the added bonus of adding to his good looks. They would only enhance what was already there, and barring any drastic incidents, would last a lifetime. People would stare at Kaveh, as they usually do; they would gaze upon him, and they would see the sparkling ornaments. Perhaps they would wonder, had the architect bought them for himself, or were they perhaps from a suitor? Who did the Light of Ksharewar favour enough to adorn his hair, his neck, his chest? Perhaps—
“What a shame that your date seems to not appreciate such a beautiful gesture,” an unfamiliar voice sounds through Alhaitham’s reverie. Alhaitham turns his gaze on the intruder. A young man with fair hair and donned in wine-red merchant robes. Probably not from Sumeru, Alhaitham thinks, as he regards the stranger warily; perhaps from Mondstadt or Fontaine, especially since he seemed to have no idea who he was talking to. Most Sumeru residents knew who they were, and would rather kiss a pyro slime than willingly choose to interrupt the former Acting Grand Sage and the Light of Ksharewar, regardless of how much they wished to talk to Kaveh.
Alhaitham, deeming the comment foolish and therefore unworthy of his time and energy, ignores the intruder and turns to Kaveh. Kaveh looks mildly flustered. He glances at Alhaitham, but Alhaitham can’t quite read his eyes. “Ah, we’re not—that’s—” he stammers.
“I see!” The stranger’s smile widens at this information. “In that case, let me introduce myself. I am Marius, a merchant from Fontaine.” He reaches out his hand, and Kaveh, bewildered, takes it.
“I’m…Kaveh?”
“Kaveh!” Marius exclaims, delighted. “How delighted I am to make your acquaintance. Now, you must tell me, what are your favourite flowers? A beauty like you must be accompanied with beautiful things!”
Alhaitham glares at the bumbling fool. There’s no way Kaveh would go along with this ridiculous farce, would he? These honeyed words spoken barely minutes after meeting someone, obviously just meant to flatter?
To his surprise, Kaveh giggles. “You’re sweet,” he says. “I don’t have a favourite flower, though. I think all of them are beautiful.”
“Wise words! You must be a fellow appreciator of beauty,” Marius says, and he sets about talking to the flower vendor, arranging a bouquet with what Alhaitham assumes is every flower they have in stock.
Alhaitham feels his lip curl and forces himself to straighten his face out. Kaveh is a free person. Kaveh can flirt with anyone he wants. If Kaveh wants to talk to shallow strangers, then that’s his choice. It won’t be Kaveh picking up the pieces when things go wrong though, no, it’ll be Alhaitham going to the tavern to drag his drunk and sad senior home.
Marius presents Kaveh with his bouquet. Kaveh looks embarrassed but delighted, thanking the merchant for his gift.
It’s mismatched. It clashes with Kaveh's outfit.
Alhaitham glares at Marius. You won’t last, he thinks viciously, then is surprised at how much venom his thoughts contained. He should be happy for Kaveh. Kaveh always rambled about romance and beauty whenever he got the slightest bit tipsy; shouldn’t Alhaitham be happy he could find someone who would praise him like he deserved? Who would shower him in stereotypical gifts?
Alhaitham is so busy brooding that he doesn’t notice the merchant bidding farewell to Kaveh. He does not say anything to Alhaitham. Good, Alhaitham thinks, because he wouldn’t have bothered responding anyway.
Kaveh laughs lightly, cradling the bouquet in his arms. They continue walking as if nothing had happened.
Kaveh glances at him. Alhaitham looks staunchly ahead.
“I was just going along with him,” Kaveh says, as if he’s explaining a wine stain on the divan, or a late night project session that got a bit too loud. “It’s nothing serious.”
“You are free to talk to whoever you want,” Alhaitham says, perhaps steelier than he intended.
“Of course I am!” Kaveh huffs. “It’s just rare to meet someone with a passion for the beauty of life!”
“I’m sure that was all he was passionate about,” Alhaitham mutters under his breath.
“Really, Alhaitham! You wouldn’t understand passion if it were right in front of you,” Kaveh saunters ahead of him.
It is right in front of me, Alhaitham thinks. And I understand him more than anyone.
***
Kaveh once told Alhaitham when they were drinking wine after dinner that his favourite flowers were mourning flowers, but he couldn’t bear to look at them sometimes, because of the memories they brought.
“Why are they your favourite, if they bring you so much pain?” Alhaitham had asked, similarly loose-lipped from the wine.
Kaveh had just smiled. “They are beautiful, despite their tragedy,” he said, and that had not answered the question Alhaitham asked, but had answered many he hadn’t.
***
“I won’t be home for dinner,” Kaveh says warily as he pours them their morning coffee.
“Understood,” Alhaitham answers. He’s not entirely awake yet.
“I have an, uh, meeting, I guess? With Marius. He mentioned some projects he was interested in hearing my thoughts on.”
Alhaitham slowly raises his head. “I…see.” He says, processing Kaveh’s words. An unfamiliar pang shoots through Alhaitham, not unlike hunger or adrenaline.
He frowns. “And you’re telling me this because?”
“Ugh,” Kaveh huffs. “Fine. Be like that.” His lips curl into a pout as he shoves Alhaitham’s cup towards him. Black, just a bit of sugar, how it’s been made every day after Alhaitham told Kaveh his coffee preference. “I’ll see you later.”
Alhaitham stares at Kaveh’s retreating back, crimson, like the lip stain he wears sometimes, like the wine he spills on Alhaitham’s lap, like the flowers he loves the most.
***
Alhaitham’s not stupid. He’s heard the rumours. The Light of Ksharawar went on a date with so-and-so, he had danced at the tavern with so-and-so. And the more salacious rumours, as risque as any novel that was passed through the hands of curious Akademiya students.
Alhaitham never let it bother him. It was Kaveh’s business what he did, and Alhaitham thought the unfortunately widespread habit of judging people by their amount of sexual experience, be it plenty or none, to be immature and dull. Kaveh, if he had these habits, had never affected Alhaitham’s life with them; he never brought anyone home, nor did he ever appear with marks of any kind. It could be that he was just good at hiding any traces, but Alhaitham severely doubted Kaveh’s ability to do so, given how useless he was at staying discreet.
A few rumours went around about Alhaitham and Kaveh, after all, and since when were any of those true?
***
Perhaps it’s for the best. Alhaitham never was the best at making Kaveh happy. At times, it seems like all Alhaitham can do is aggravate Kaveh, even when he’s not trying to do so, which, admittingly, was a cherished pastime of his. Someone who could appreciate Kaveh, and see the world the way he does; wouldn’t that be better for him? Or even, barring that; maybe the fleeting encounters were what Kaveh wanted, after all; brief but vivid experiences, short like the cut flowers he so loved to defend. Alhaitham was not one to judge how others chose to live their life.
There’s a counterargument to be made, though. Because Allhaitham appreciates Kaveh. He just doesn’t force himself to express it in flowery words; his appreciation is a quiet “thanks”, is washing the dishes when it’s not his turn despite the way he hates how the water feels on his skin, is laying a blanket over his dozing senior, tired out from a long day of work. He sees how Kaveh sees the world; wasn’t that enough? He didn’t have to adopt Kaveh’s way of thinking or even agree with it to understand it. He would stand by Kaveh’s side as long as Kaveh would have him. Alhaitham’s home was forever Kaveh’s too.
Alhaitham wanted forever. And maybe that was too ugly, too harsh. Not delicate and passionate like those people in the rumours that Kaveh charmed into his bed. Not experienced; eloquent perhaps, but in all the wrong ways.
He longed to praise Kaveh, but Kaveh wouldn’t listen. Kaveh would laugh in his face, or accuse him of having an ulterior motive. And perhaps Alhaitham did have an ulterior motive; who thinks of a friend, a senior, a roommate, an ex-best-friend like this? What they had now was good; who was Alhaitham to judge what the best for Kaveh was? Kaveh could only walk his own path, as everyone had to, and Alhaitham would walk his.
But part of him wanted to scream, wanted to grasp onto Kaveh’s wrist as he got up to dance in the tavern, wanted to throw out flowers from suitors because they were stupid and would die soon and didn’t belong in their house, wanted to pin Kaveh’s hair up with hairpins he gifted him, wrap Kaveh in the scarves that his gaze lingered on when they went shopping together. Wanted to drink from the same cup of wine. Wanted to press his lips to his.
Alhaitham is not used to wanting. Either he gets what he wants, or he moves on. There is no use in endless thought experiments with no conclusion.
But like always, Kaveh is the only exception.
***
Kaveh forgets his keys. Alhaitham eyes the lion in the key bowl, glinting at him, almost mockingly.
He could just wait for Kaveh to return. That would be the most logical option. There was no need for him to go out just to deliver Kaveh’s keys. (What if Kaveh decided to go home with the Fontanian merchant, since he didn’t have his keys?) He didn’t even know where Kaveh was. (He was obviously at Lambad’s.) Kaveh wouldn’t appreciate Alhaitham interrupting his meeting. (It was obviously a date.) Kaveh would gruffly accept his keys, then turn back to his date, ignoring Alhaitham. (This was what would happen.)
But why should Alhaitham be stuck wanting? He has wanted for years, ever since his golden senior laid eyes upon him in the House of Daena, before he had even known that was what wanting felt like. It had simply grown, purring and content when Kaveh was with him, growling and growing fangs when the hands of others laid upon his shoulders.
It wasn’t rational of him. Logic deems that Alhaitham should try, at least once, to reach out his hand to the person he viewed as his own mirror. Preferably he should try many times, at least until Kaveh himself refused him. At which point Althaitham would do his best to salvage the broken shards, because he could not picture a life where he did not have Kaveh by his side in some shape of form. Because Kaveh was a part of Alhaitham, has always been.
Alhaitham pulls his boots on.
***
The sky has begun to turn to a rich blue, stars peeking through. Lambad’s is full; it’s to be expected, on a warm night like this. It doesn't take long for Alhaitham to locate the architect; Lambad notices him come in, and jerks his head to the corner of the room. Alhaitham nods his thanks.
Kaveh whips his head around as soon as he hears Alhaitham’s footsteps approaching. “Alhaitham! I’m so sorry, I totally forgot we had prearranged very important plans!” He stands up almost immediately, turning to look at Marius apologetically. “Well, that’s me. I’m terribly sorry.”
Marius looks at them curiously. “I see, I see. Well, the course of true love never did run smooth,” he says, with a glint in his eyes, and Kaveh flushes.
“That’s how it is, you understand.”
Marius smiles. “Well, good luck, my beautiful Kaveh. And if you ever miss flowers, you know my correspondence.”
Althaitham just blinks at him. Slowly. His fingers itch at his side, coincidentally where his sword hilt is.
“Ahaha that’s enough talking! Bye and thank you, Marius!” Kaveh exclaims, powerwalking to the exit. Alhaitham gives Marius one last stare before catching up with Kaveh.
“Archons. Let’s get out of here,” Kaveh whispers, grasping Alhaitham’s arm with both of his hands. He doesn’t let go even when they exit the tavern. Alhaitham waits for Kaveh to put a panicked distance between them, but it doesn’t come.
“So I take it your date didn’t go well?”
“It wasn’t a date!” Kaveh exclaims. “Or at least, it wasn’t supposed to be. He was fine. Quite the gentleman, actually, and he actually had interesting ideas about the development of the art scene in Fontaine. He even suggested that we should take care to develop art more in Sumeru, rightly so. Perhaps he would even sponsor something.”
“So what was wrong?”
Kaveh glances at Alhaitham, like he wants to say something he knows Alhaitham wouldn’t like to hear. Alhaitham wants to prove him wrong.
The moment passes, however, and Kaveh sighs.
“He propositioned me like, three times this evening.”
“What did you expect, going on a date with a flashy Fontainian like that?” Alhaitham can’t help but tease.
“I was being professional and cordial!” Kaveh’s face flushes. “Apparently everyone thinks I’m so down for anything. I hate the rumour mill.”
“Ah,” Alhaitham says.
“What?!” Kaveh turns to him. “Don’t tell me you believe them too?”
“Believe what,” Alhaitham asks weakly.
“You know, those rumours. That I sleep around, that I’m really good fuck, that kinda thing.”
Alhaitham doesn’t think he will ever mentally recover from hearing the words “I’m a really good fuck” spill from Kaveh’s lips. Still, he manages to sagely shake his head, even as he can feel the heat engulfing his ears.
“I never put weight into rumours,” he says, and Kaveh titters. “That’s so like you,” Kaveh says, and Alhaitham can’t help but think, he sounds fond, doesn’t he?
And doesn’t he make Kaveh happy, sometimes? Wouldn’t these moments, them together, make up for the pain? Everything they could have lost, they’ve got back already, through sheer stubbornness and determination. And don’t they have so much more to gain?
“Would you not,” Alhaitham starts. Kaveh pauses, bright eyes turned up towards him.
It’s hard to get the words out.
“Would you ever consider it,” Alhaitham says. His voice comes out awfully shaky.
“Consider what?” Kaveh asks.
Alhaitham can’t open his mouth.
“Nothing,” he says, and makes to turn. “Let’s go home.”
“Don’t you dare, Alhaitham.” Something in the tone of Kaveh’s voice stops Alhaitham dead in his tracks.
“You can’t keep hiding,” Kaveh says. “Say it.”
“You wouldn't want to hear it.”
“And since when have you cared what other people think?” Kaveh exclaims. “I’ll decide how I feel for myself.”
“I care what you think,” Alhaitham says helplessly. You left me once, he doesn’t say.
Kaveh seems to sense Alhaitham’s thoughts, as his gaze turns tender. “I promise I want to hear it,” he says, determined.
Alhaitham opens his mouth. Words are easy—why are they failing him now?
“Bouquets die,” he finally manages. “I think a brooch or a hairpin would suit you better. I’ve been looking around but I haven’t found anything good yet.”
Kaveh frowns. “Alhaitham—”
“You deserve good things,” Alhaitham blurts out. “You deserve forever,”
Kaveh looks at him, eyes shining.
“You mean to say I deserve you, I suppose?” Kaveh laughs. “Are you saying you’re the best? So egotistical, as always,” Kaveh says, but there’s no heat to it. “If you were jealous, you could have just said so. I can read you, you know. I don’t always understand you, but I’ve gotten better at it.”
Listening to Kaveh ramble, Alhaitham realises; Kaveh’s as nervous as he is. Kaveh perhaps is as scared as he is.
If Kaveh is Alhaitham’s mirror, then perhaps it’s not just nerves that Kaveh feels.
“I love you,” Alhaitham blurts out, irrationally, irrevocably, undisputedly, the truth. His heart laid bare on the ground in front of Kaveh underneath the stars, for Kaveh to reject.
For Kaveh to accept.
When Kaveh looks up at him, his eyes are wet with tears. “Took you long enough,” he says, and crashes into Alhaitham’s arms.
***
Lambad’s is as busy as it always is on Friday nights when they meet for their weekly TCG session. When Kaveh gets up to get more drinks, Tighnari and Cyno jump at the chance to interrogate Alhaitham.
“Something’s up,” Tighnari blurts out. Cyno nods. “What’s the deal with Kaveh today? Why is he actually playing TCG instead of just drinking?”
“That’s a good thing,” Alahitham says bluntly. “We should be celebrating his progress.”
“He seems happy,” Cyno says.
“That is also a good thing.”
“No, but why? There’s always a catch when it comes to Kaveh.”
They all turn to look at the man in question, who is at the bar with his hands full with their drinks. He’s being approached by someone, as usual.
“Thank you,” they hear him say cheerily. “I’m flattered you think that. But I’m seeing someone! Exclusively!”
The person must not give up, because Kaveh simply cheerily nods his head to Alhaitham. The exquisite hairpin in his hair glints in the light. “There he is. Sorry, I must be getting back to my friends now.”
Alhaitham almost feels bad for the other person, who visibly deflates as Kaveh bounces back to their table. Almost.
“Hopefully that will stop the rumours,” Kaveh declares as he sits down.
“What a good strategy,” Tighnari says carefully, “saying that you are dating so you can avoid being hit on, as well as not have to worry about being seen going into Alhaitham’s house.”
Kaveh blinks. “Oh! Um. Uh huh. That’s totally it,” he says, extremely unconvincingly.
“What,” Tighnari says, just as Cyno jumps up.
“HAH!” he barks out, reaching his palm towards Tighnari. “Pay up, my dear friend.”
Tighnari rolls his eyes. “Archons, you guys couldn’t have waited a few weeks?”
“Please don’t tell me you have a bet based on when we get together,” Kaveh says dryly, but the pair across them just laugh. “Whatever makes you feel better,” Tighnari says, as he deposits a sizable amount of mora in Cyno’s hands. He nods at Alhaitham. “This one here was reaching his limit, so it was only a matter of time.”
Kaveh whirls around to peer at Althaitham, who immediately averts his eyes. He’s never going to hear the end of this. Kaveh will pounce on him as soon as they get home and press him for answers.
“Is that so?! How cute of my dear junior!”
Alhaitham doesn’t answer, but he’s sure his red ears are answers enough. He wants to put his earpieces on, but that would be just as incriminating.
But why should he hide anything? Kaveh certainly wasn’t holding back.
The whole of Teyvat could know; all the better.
He leans close to Kaveh. “Just for you, dear senior.” He says, lips ghosting Kaveh’s ears. He leans back to admire his handiwork.
Kaveh’s eyes are wide and face is flushed an impressive shade of red.
“Okayyyy, that’s enough from you two. TCG time,” Cyno points at Kaveh. “Your turn, lovebird.”
Kaveh grins.
“I say lovebird, because of Kaveh’s feather, and due to the revelation that Alhaitham and Kaveh are in love—”
“We get it,” Tighnari groans, and Alhaitham smiles, despite himself, small and quiet. Nobody notices, in the noisy tavern, their friends engrossed in cards and bickering, but Kaveh looks his way and smiles back, more beautiful than any star, any flower, anything words could express.