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The Theory of Meaning.

The words flash over and over in Kaveh's mind. They are the only thing he has jotted down from this lecture so far, and he keeps embellishing it in different pen colors, because he has a very nice color scheme in his pouch and because otherwise he’s certain he would be bored to death.

Surely, this has a very important place in his degree, which is why he has opted in for this elective, after all. Yet, he feels late to a conversation everyone has already exhausted. Out of his usual group of friends, Tighnari took it a few years ago in his endless swarm of pre-med training, and so did Cyno, right on one of his first terms. It’s Kaveh’s third year here, though, and possibly their thousandth, meaning their professor back in the day was probably a dinosaur.

Out of all the people in the program that has been housing him for the past few years, only one shares this class with him, and it is his new roommate for this term, now that Tighnari has abandoned him to go live with Cyno just outside campus while they complete their overly complicated degrees. He’s half thankful – it can be a handful to go to class with the people that share not only your building but also your group therapy sessions about how to cope with being shunned just because of the region either you or your ancestors came from – and half lonely, seeing as most of his friends are part of it. He looks towards his roommate, Alhaitham, in one of the front rows and notices he has been taking far more industrious notes than himself, yet no one has bothered to sit by his side, or… even a few rows from him, actually. The classroom might be more empty than full, but this is still strange to Kaveh. Though they haven’t talked much aside from the times Kaveh forgot his key at their dormitory and Alhaitham went out of his way to chase him down and make a whole point out of delivering it to him, he’s only heard great things about his work ethics, so why would people choose to keep such a wide berth from him?

Well, come to think of it, it could be a few things. Some people are intimidated by hard workers, and Alhaitham’s grades are often good enough to become the talk of the faculty staff in every corridor they both frequent. He never seems bothered by the world around him, either, which might make small talk difficult. Out of all the options, though, Kaveh isn’t so naive he can’t see the ugliest one rear its head: they might just not like him because he wasn’t born here. Everyone’s heard, by now, about how his fluency doesn’t come from growing alongside native speakers, but from his own work, and that not only does he speak every language needed for his own overly complicated degree, he also dabbles in some ancient ones no one but a scholar would be interested in learning. For some people, that and the tan color of his skin are enough to inspire hatred. Kaveh would know; he’s been there himself, all blond hair and foreign habits and brown skin that the sun seems determined on kissing whenever it can. He hated that about himself a few years ago, when leaving high school meant being thrown into a world of people who wouldn’t hesitate to question or laugh at his every move. He’s loath to admit it, but the once-a-week group therapy sessions he had to agree to in order to become part of his current program are working their magic.

Without giving himself more time for second thoughts, he slips his way down a few rows, then sits by Alhaitham’s right side. He’s wearing the same headphones as always, the chunky black ones he only changes to sleep, but nothing about him screams unapproachable. He is, in fact, more attractive than most, and more intriguing than the lecture, with his gray hair and bulky, toned arms. And, now that he has chosen to listen to his own self-awareness again, Kaveh decides he should not be thinking about this.

“Hi,” he says instead of looking at Alhaitham’s arms.

“Hi.”

And that is all he gets. Throughout a whole hour, Kaveh tries, but the most Alhaitham does is fiddle with his headphones. He refuses colorful pens, resorting to black and teal all the way, and he won’t comment on whether the subject appeals to him or whether he thinks it is being well taught. Nothing.

And he’ll have to see him again by the end of the day. Good. Grand.

***

It’s not even that Alhaitham is a bad roommate. It’s really not. He’s as neat as anyone is in their early twenties, and he never brings anyone over, and he never invades Kaveh’s side of the room.

It’s just that he’s quiet.

Back in the day, when Kaveh shared this room with Tighnari, they’d often get up to some mischief in the evening, like inviting Cyno over for an impromptu card tournament or indulging in cheap wine and gossip, but the lovebirds live together now, and suddenly everything has become devoid of sound or life. The most Kaveh does is swear at his assignments, and even that is low, contained, careful not to bother his roommate that he knows basically nothing about. Music is only for his earbuds, and talking on the phone is something he only does when he is all alone. It’s maddening.

“Well, have you tried actually approaching him? I’d think anyone who chose to sit with me when I had all that space to myself was just a creep,” Tighnari offers when he relays his troubles to him on a Friday night. It’s not exactly helpful.

“I sat with you,” Cyno says, jokingly accusatory, as he shuffles a deck of cards.

“I thought you were a creep.”

Baffled, Cyno laughs and tuts at Tighnari, who raises playful eyebrows at him. It’s miserable to be single sometimes.

“Well, we all know where that got you two,” Kaveh says. “I just thought he might want a friend. He’s always, always alone.”

It’s Tighnari’s turn to laugh, leaving Kaveh to cross his arms and wonder if he is truly that socially inept. Perhaps he is. He does only have two best friends, after all.

“That’s not true,” Cyno says between sips of something that looks atrocious. Probably whiskey; he’s not keen on getting close enough to find out. “We talk philosophy every once in a while. He’s pretty advanced for someone his age.”

“Cyno, please. You’re twenty-five.” Tighnari sighs into his own beverage, but eventually goes back to leaning on his shoulder.

“And he’s twenty-one. We weren’t even born in the same millennium,” he counters. “Still, he’s a pretty good egg, Kaveh. I daresay he’s… egg-celent.”

Kaveh throws his hands up at Cyno’s pun, refusing to laugh until he sees his eyebrows shoot up and down in a far more comical manner than the delivery of half his jokes. There’s no saving this man, and there’s no saving himself from his horrible charm.

“What Cyno and I mean is that if you talk to Alhaitham about something that actually interests him, you might get a better response. Not everyone is as versed in small talk as the little light of the College of Environmental Design.”

He chortles at the nickname, an embarrassing remnant of his first group projects within the program where he met Tighnari and one that some professors still constantly bring up. All his life, Kaveh has been described as a joy to work with, though half the time that has just meant giving up on his own ideas to support others. He struggles to see merit in that, but being called a little light by someone as short as Tighnari will never cease to crack him up. There’s a good side to everything, he supposes – perhaps even to his failed interactions with Alhaitham.

“So you’re saying I should be more aggressive.”

“Yeah,” Cyno answers with a quick nod.

“Wait, no. Define aggressive,” Tighnari says, eyes betraying his despair.

“More straight to the point. Like, ‘hey, Alhaitham, what’s your favorite language out of all the languages, huh?’ rather than ‘hey, hello, would you like a pen?’, maybe.”

“Okay. You need to workshop that, actually.” Cyno grimaces at him.

“Preferably while sober,” Tighnari adds. “Isn’t it time for you to head back, anyway? You shouldn’t down a whole bottle of wine just because it’s Friday, you know.”

“But it’s so fucking quiet back in the dorm,” Kaveh says in his best pleading tone. “Sometimes I’ll say something and he won’t make a single peep back, you know. Not even a grunt.”

“Then you need to work on cracking his case. You know, because chickens peep, and they come from eggs, but eggs also crack, but detectives crack cases, and…”

“Cyno, the whiskey is not helping,” Tighnari complains, but all Kaveh sees in his eyes is love. “Come on, you two. It’s about time we get going.”

***

It’s not that Kaveh doesn’t try. It’s just that, for an infuriating amount of times, he doesn’t succeed. Alhaitham doesn’t scorn him or get annoyed at his attempts at socialization – well, at least he doesn’t show it if he does –, but he rarely answers with more than one very final sentence. Until it’s a Wednesday afternoon and he’s been trying to piece together a maquette for a good two hours and it’s just not coming together. He swears under his breath and he taps on his desk and he scrolls down boring news on his phone, but nothing quite helps, and he only has one idea left.

“Alhaitham?” he calls, softly at first, then looks to the side to see his roommate probably didn’t hear anything. It almost leads him to give up. “Alhaitham?”

Finally, he looks at him, eyes a little wide like he just got a start.

“Yes?”

“What do you do when you’re at your wit’s end with a project?”

“I try not to get to my wit’s end, first and foremost.”

Kaveh almost chortles. No answer from Alhaitham is ever what he expects.

“Well, what do you do to relax? You never seem stressed.”

To his surprise, it’s Alhaitham who breaks into a small, yet so very present snort. A pleasant smirk stays even after that, leaving Kaveh a little stunned.

“When my studies aren’t stimulating enough, I just study elsewhere. Do you know Puspa Cafe?”

“Not particularly,” he answers, furrowing his brow as he tries to figure out why the name is familiar. Nilou has probably performed there, or maybe it was Tighnari who mentioned it. “Where is it?”

“Just down the street from this building, although you have to turn to the left and…” Alhaitham sighs, bringing a hand to his temple as if to massage it. Perhaps he isn’t that relaxed a person. “Nevermind. I could text you the address – that’s probably easier. Maybe you can sleep there next time you forget your keys.”

Kaveh should probably answer by teasing back, but Alhaitham looks humorous, and the sight is intriguing enough that he can’t. Instead, he finds that he hardly has time to think before his next words are spilling from his mouth.

“Actually, would you show me the way? Whenever you have time, I mean.”

Alhaitham’s mouth opens then closes again, as if Kaveh had caught him by surprise. Come to think of it, even he is a little surprised. Sure, he can be loud and brazen to his friends, but he tries to be polite when he doesn’t quite know someone, and this wasn’t exactly polite, though he doesn’t know what it was. Impulsive, maybe. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Ah. Sure. I wouldn’t like to stop what I’m doing now, though. Tomorrow?”

Kaveh nods.

“Tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you here at two, then.”

“Sure.”

Alhaitham fiddles with his headphones, and though they’re still in the same room, they’re a hundred miles apart again. Kaveh doesn’t mind it this time, though; they have plans, after all, and he does suspect he has a blush on his face that he’d quite like to keep to himself.

The rest of the day goes by with no news in the way of work or his roommate. The most they do is say good night to each other once Alhaitham is ready for bed, though Kaveh stays up all night doing his best to catch up with the reading he has been assigned before it catches up to him. He wakes up to his phone on the floor, probably from falling asleep while holding it, and only ten pages of progress.

After he showers and eats a solitary bag of chips for breakfast, Kaveh runs back to his dorm. Thankfully, Alhaitham is already gone. Kaveh wouldn’t say he’s dressing up for their hangout – it’s not like it’s a date or even an evening out –, but he does wear the roll-on perfume he got as a birthday gift from Nilou on his clothes, and instead of his usual barrettes, his hair is pinned back by an enameled clip in the shape of a bird of paradise. He even wears his prettiest blouse, one with angular dips both on the front and the back, though he knows he’ll be overdressed. A dash of concealer under his eyes and two flicks of maroon eyeliner on his eyelids later, he is done.

Kaveh goes about his day mostly unscathed, only getting a whoop from Dehya on his way out of the dorms, but his nerves don’t quite settle. At some point, he texts Cyno about his plans with Alhaitham, and the response is a line of very enthusiastic emojis. Though he’s too busy to hold a full conversation, Tighnari soon follows with a text of his own, asking for all of the details once Kaveh is back from the cafe, and it makes him chortle to himself. His friends truly deserve each other.

By two, he’s at his dormitory’s door, fiddling with his keychain like the room doesn’t partly belong to him. He knocks once to let Alhaitham know he’s coming in, only to find him sitting on his bed with legs crossed, facing the door, while playing with a fidget cube that is usually by his nightstand. Kaveh absently thinks he should get one of those for himself, too, or perhaps build one.

“Are you always this late to things?” is the first thing Alhaitham asks, leading him to furrow his brow and look down at his watch.

“It’s two minutes to two, actually. I’m early.”

“If you think so.” He shrugs.

Kaveh watches, a little speechless, as Alhaitham gets up and grabs a pair of boots from the one piece of furniture they bought together: a small shoe rack. He’s chosen a taller pair of boots than his usual, and they go quite well with his outfit, making him look put together yet just relaxed enough that it all looks unintentional. Kaveh doesn’t know why that fascinates him so, but it does.

“Shall we, then?” he asks once Alhaitham looks in his direction again.

“Alright. Do you mind walking?”

“As long as you don’t take me on an hour-long journey promising we’re two blocks away, I don’t.”

“That’s quite specific,” Alhaitham says, but refrains from asking for details. The memories of impromptu hikes with Cyno, who tends to insist anywhere in town is between two and four blocks away, rush into his mind all the same, and he has to contain a small smile. The way his knees pop under the pressure of crossing the town shouldn’t be funny, but it kind of is.

Somehow, they settle into their awkwardness, Alhaitham giving mumbled directions once they’re out of campus and Kaveh following, keys still in his hands. His keychain is a plushie lion – a cuter version of their university’s symbol –, just small enough to be perfect for fidgeting when he feels nervous. These days, it smells vaguely like the only perfume Alhaitham seems to own, soft on the nose and not unlike the scent of rain or a river. It has become used to living in his pockets, he thinks, a little amused.

“We’re here. It was three blocks.” Alhaitham points in the direction of large glass windows that show an earth-toned cafe dotted with colorful objects on shelves. “I prefer sitting inside, if you don’t mind.”

“Lead the way,” Kaveh says, intrigued by the smells that waft from the open doors. There’s a hint of generic sweetness, like vanilla or maybe cake, but also coffee and smoke and, most importantly, baklava.

Once they step inside, the smells become far easier to locate. A mouthwatering spread of sweets that Kaveh grew up eating awaits them, and there are a couple of groups sitting around water pipes, talking between puffs of scented smoke. When Kaveh looks back at Alhaitham, though, he finds that his eyes are fixated on him, not their surroundings.

“I should have asked whether you felt comfortable with smoke,” he says, quieter than usual. “We can go somewhere else, if you’d like.”

“But this is where you relax,” Kaveh says.

“This is where I relax,” Alhaitham echoes.

“I’m assuming that involves smoking?”

“Not every time. They have great coffee, too,” Alhaitham muses. “But once or twice a month, maybe.”

“Well, I’ve never smoked from a qalyan, but we did come all the way here. I’d like to try.”

“Qalyan. Mm.” Alhaitham’s voice stretches around each letter, elongating the second A where Kaveh himself hasn’t. “Where I’m from, it’s nargile.”

Kaveh crosses his arms. “A water pipe. Whatever. Can we have a seat?”

Something takes over Alhaitham’s face then, a confused sort of smirk he hadn’t seen before.

“It was a fun fact, not a personal attack.”

Well. That does make more sense, on second thought.

Refusing to say anything on the matter out of fear of being inconsiderate again, Kaveh chooses to simply take a seat and wait for Alhaitham to follow. He grabs a big, plasticky menu from the counter before he joins him at the table, quietly offering it to Kaveh.

“You’ll see they have a lot of different coffee. Also, flavored smoke. I can pay for the nargile, though, since it’s your first time,” Alhaitham offers. Kaveh could swear he had never heard him speak so much.

“Not fair. We can split,” Kaveh says, hiding his flush behind the menu. The options seem unlimited.

“No,” he answers immediately. “I’d be fine splitting some kunafa, though. Their pieces run too big for me to finish.”

“Not a sweet tooth?”

“No.”

Kaveh chortles. They are both bad at making conversation.

“What?” Alhaitham asks, head tilting slightly to the side.

“You always say things in such a definitive tone. Don’t you ever feel like elaborating?”

“Well, you always ask yes or no questions. Why would I?”

“That is a point.”

Alhaitham props his elbows on the table, fidget cube in hand, and looks at him for a moment. It’s startling, to be under his gaze like this. He doesn’t usually look Kaveh in the eye.

“I can make conversation if you’re uncomfortable,” he says, simply. “I didn’t realize that could be the case. Oh, by the way, don’t you dare get something like bubblegum-flavored tobacco. There’s no smoking something that sweet, and I hate the smell.”

Kaveh chuckles as he crosses the sweeter choices of smoke from the list in his head. He should probably have something more traditional for his first time, anyway.

“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable. It’s just… puzzling.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Alhaitham says with the smallest sigh. “What’s so strange about it?”

“I never know what we are,” Kaveh admits, feeling absolutely ridiculous. “I’m not sure if we’re acquaintances or if you’d like me dead.”

“We’re roommates,” Alhaitham says. “We can be friends.”

“Mm. I’ll be looking forward to that promotion,” Kaveh says, half playful. “You don’t want me dead, then?”

“No,” Alhaitham tells him, so very serious it lights up something tender in his chest. “I’ve been told I can look a little… stern.. And that I have a mean streak. But if I said we can be friends, then it means I wish you no harm.”

“You’re a jerk to me about my keys, but you do always wait for me when I forget them,” Kaveh points out. “Maybe you’re a softie on the inside.”

“Don’t get too excited.”

They both chuckle at that, the first laugh they’ve shared with each other, and Kaveh just can’t shake off his tender feelings anymore. Alhaitham is serious, yes, and so composed it scares him sometimes, but there’s a boyish glow about him, too, a fleeting crinkle to the corner of his eyes that leaves him wanting to make him laugh more.

“Anyway, I’ve been looking forward to the kunafa,” Kaveh says, eyes darting down to the menu again. “Oh, and they’ve got ceylon tea! I’m just not sure about the smoke.”

“That you’re going for tea in a place with so much good coffee is outrageous,” Alhaitham tells him, so grave one would think Kaveh has committed murder. “And, by the way, lemon mint. That’s what I usually get.”

Kaveh nods, looking down at the total price for their smoking session and wincing a little. Time for a prayer to the credit card gods.

“Then that’s what we’re getting,” he says after a long second.

“And I’m paying.”

“We’re splitting. You’re my junior – I can’t possibly let you splurge on me.”

Alhaitham shakes his head as if Kaveh were an unruly toddler.

“What does it matter if it’s my first year here? You look younger than me.”

“I’ll have you know I’m twenty-three.”

“Wow. Ancient,” Alhaitham says, still unimpressed. “I’m paying either way, dear senior.”

“Oof. Don’t call me that again,” Kaveh complains for the sake of complaining. “We’ll see about that, anyway.”

“We’ll see about that. Will you be ordering anything else?” Alhaitham asks. “I tutor Layla – the girl at the counter – every week. She can usually arrange for a nice discount.”

“The baklava. It was the first thing I smelled.”

“You have a sweet tooth,” Alhaitham says accusatorily.

“Perhaps.”

Another shake of his head, this one far more humorous.

“I’ll be ordering, then.”

“Why? So you can put a rental we’ll both be using on your account?”

“Kaveh. Is this a matter of life and death to you?” Alhaitham sighs, suddenly looking more tired than he’s ever seen him. “I’ve planned for it. If it offends you enough that you’ll leave, then I suppose that is settled. If not, then just pay for your tea and baklava. Please.”

“And what if it is?” Kaveh challenges him, immediately regretting it when Alhaitham lets out another strained breath.

“Then I’ll be leaving, too, and we don’t have to talk about it. It’s just… have you heard of cognitive rigidity?” he asks, leaving Kaveh to wrack his brain for information just to return with none. “I’m autistic. It’s one of the symptoms. Sometimes a disruption to a plan I’ve made for a new situation can lead to… complicated feelings.”

Oh. Suddenly, Kaveh feels like a bit of an asshole.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he says, hugging himself for some stability. “I thought you were doing it because I’m horrible with my finances.”

“You had no way of knowing that. And I had no way of knowing about how you handle money, either.”

“I’m sorry. Truce?”

Alhaitham clicks his tongue in a sign of disapproval that reminds Kaveh of living with his parents in a neighborhood full of aunties and uncles, and though he’s tense, the knot on his chest unravels.

“Don’t be overly apologetic,” Alhaitham tells him. “Continue to assume capacity. I’ll try to tell you whenever it’s not the case.”

Kaveh nods, slumping into his seat. He didn’t realize his body was so rigid before.

“Alright. Thank you for telling me, by the way.”

“We’re hanging out together. It just makes sense,” Alhaitham says, back to his usual tone. It’s strange to realize what Kaveh took for seriousness and finality was just his normal way of speaking, but now that he knows what his roommate sounds like when he feels strained, he realizes he never wants to be the cause of it again. “I’ll be ordering for us now.”

Kaveh nods, and just like that, he is left alone with his thoughts and the urge to watch Alhaitham as his back is turned to him. He’s handsome, even from a distance, all polished gestures and a voice that cuts through the vague sound of chitchat, Middle Eastern pop music and smoking that fills the cafe. Truth is, Kaveh was disappointed to room with him at first – he swore to himself he wouldn’t hook up with a roommate back in his first term, after all, and Alhaitham’s beauty could make his oath crumble if he ever looked at him a certain way. Things feel safer now that he knows Alhaitham won’t, but something in him aches with that knowledge. Maybe it’s his vanity.

Alhaitham comes back with their desserts in hand, serving Kaveh before taking his own seat. The baklava looks gorgeous, a diamond of crumbly phyllo dough and nuts, but the kunafa steals the show almost as much as his roommate does.

“Drinks will be here shortly,” he informs Kaveh. “And they’ll be preparing the pipe as well, but I’d like to see you hydrate first. It would be a shame if you got dizzy after your first hit.”

“I’ll have you know I’m not a lightweight.” He crosses his arms.

“How can you know? As far as I’m concerned, you’ve never smoked.”

“Depends on the smoke you’re talking about.” He shrugs. “Though what I’m used to grows in far greener pastures.”

“I thought all sorts of farms were some sort of green, but if you say so…”

“Weed, Alhaitham. I’m talking about weed.”

He chuckles as he watches Alhaitham connect the dots, then look at him with something like indignation in his eyes.

“You could have said weed from the get-go.”

“Well, all that matters is that I don’t think I will be embarrassing you,” he says, still a little defensive.

“You would only embarrass yourself.”

“You’re incorrigible!”

“Yes. That happens to those who are always right.” Alhaitham laughs.

Before they know it, their beverages are delivered to their table, Alhaitham’s a dark, aromatic coffee and Kaveh’s a delicate cup of steaming ceylon tea. He takes a bite of his baklava before sipping from it, appreciative of the way the flavors blend in his palate, only to find Alhaitham still watching when he looks back at him.

“You either never look at me when we’re talking or stare like I have something on my face,” he complains, though it’s playful at heart.

“You do have syrup on your face, but I wasn’t looking at that.”

“Thank you, o gracious Alhaitham.”

“You are absurd.”

Kaveh chuckles through another bite of baklava.

“And so are you. We make a fetching team.”

“I don’t find myself to be absurd.”

“What? You don’t want to be a team with me?”

“See. The absurd one here is you.”

Kaveh clicks his tongue in mock disapproval, then finishes his pastry, only then realizing Alhaitham is not even halfway done with the kunafa he ordered. His coffee, though, is almost all gone, and he looks more blissful than Kaveh ever thought he could be.

“I see you’re done. Would you like some kunafa before your tea goes cold?”

“Are you done?”

“We can share,” Alhaitham offers, pushing the plate towards the center of the table as if he didn’t realize how romantic such a gesture tends to be. “You didn’t use your fork, anyway.”

“Who eats baklava with a fork?”

“Me.”

“You’d never catch me doing that,” Kaveh says, stealing a chunk of kunafa for good measure. “Digestion starts at the fingertips, after all.”

“Then I won’t be digesting anything.” Alhaitham shrugs. “Most food is sticky and bothersome to the touch, even when it tastes good. I don’t see why I should suffer for a treat.”

“I guess I’m the number one fan of suffering, then. That’s how I learned to eat, and even if I get funny looks from time to time, I think there’s something nice to it.”

“I’ve noticed. That’s how I learned, too, but I’ve never quite enjoyed it,” Alhaitham muses, then looks up at Kaveh to see him doing his best to be stealthy about the flush on his face. “I’m not picking on you. I’d never complain about all the free disposable cutlery you leave for me.”

“You notice more about me than I thought,” Kaveh says, face hotter than the tea he sips from.

“We’re roommates.”

“I thought by now we were acquaintances.”

“One doesn’t exclude the other.”

Kaveh steals some more kunafa, just for the sake of having something to do with his restless hands.

“Would you like to begin smoking soon, or would you rather let the food settle?” Alhaitham asks, taking him by surprise. He can be so considerate at times. “I’ve had my fill, so I’m ready when you are.”

Kaveh hums through a sip of tea, considering his options. What if he is a lightweight for this in the end? What if Alhaitham gets embarrassed and never wants to hang out again? On the other hand, the man behind the bar close to the door seems to be looking at them, and on the counter rests a teal qalyan. What if he bothers the hosts?

“There’s no need. I don’t feel particularly full.”

Alhaitham nods through the last sip of his coffee.

“Then I’ll get us some water. I’m not keen on leaving you dehydrated through your very first session.”

“I can pay for mine!” Kaveh calls out, but Alhaitham is already walking to the counter and doesn’t seem to notice him at all.

He takes the last bit of kunafa from their shared plate and piles the empty dishes together, making sure to leave all the cutlery on top. Frustrated, he makes his way to the counter, thinking perhaps Alhaitham will pay him some mind if he shows up next to him. He doesn’t.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” the girl behind the counter, Layla, tells him as she takes the plates and cups from his hands. Her hands shake a little before finding a steady grip, as if she’s struggling with the very concept of standing up, but she offers him a sweet smile, almost as if he’s the one who needs reassuring. “But thank you kindly, all the same.”

“It’s no problem at all.”

“You should have let me,” Alhaitham says, almost startling him.

“I thought I could optimize our time,” he lies.

“By a second?”

“Maybe five.”

Alhaitham chuckles then, an almost silent thing he only catches because they’re so close they might bump shoulders if Kaveh’s not careful. It’s a pretty sound, private and deep, and if he stares a little, no, he didn’t.

“Go have a seat,” he tells him, one hand lifted to almost touch Kaveh’s back. “I’ll fetch our smoke.”

Kaveh sighs, but he’s not bothered at all. If anything, he’s a little swayed by this Alhaitham, mellowed out by coffee and sugar and so insistent on doing things for him. He’s different from the Alhaitham he first met, closed off and silent, and most definitely different from his first impressions when they began sharing a dorm, which were simply that he disliked everyone, but especially him. Kaveh has never been a great reader of people, but he fears his roommate might be his worst misreading so far.

He sits down at their table and fidgets with the lion plushie in his pocket until Alhaitham comes back, looking satisfied with himself. Shortly after, the man behind the water pipe bar leaves the counter to put a qalyan down on their table, kind eyes fixed on him. Kaveh tells himself he’s not jealous and swallows the knot on his throat.

“Can I trust you to take good care of it?”

“Always,” Alhaitham says, directing a slight smile at him. “Thank you.”

The man leaves with a nod to them both, coming back only to place square pieces of coal atop the pipe.

“I never knew you were a sweet talker,” Kaveh tells Alhaitham, who seems more interested in fiddling with the coals than looking at him.

“I’m not. People are nice out of their own volition.”

Kaveh hums, ever the contrarian. He doesn’t know why, but there is something addictive about bickering with Alhaitham. He’s so unbothered by it, until he isn’t, and it makes Kaveh want to test his every limit until he knows them all.

Instead of saying anything else, though, he settles for watching Alhaitham, who takes small puffs of smoke with his brow furrowed, concentrated on something Kaveh wouldn’t be able to identify. His face finally relaxes when he lets out a bigger puff of smoke, tilted to the side so that none of it reaches Kaveh, the very profile of boyish relaxation. Kaveh sort of wishes he had a sketchbook on him, though he much prefers sketching buildings to people, just to keep that sight etched somewhere other than his mind, where it might fade.

“It’s good now,” Alhaitham says, finally looking at him again. “Would you like to try?”

Kaveh nods, taking the pipe from him and feeling its weight for a moment. It doesn’t feel like much, though it’s most definitely more complicated than any joint he has held, and all of a sudden he feels a little flustered. Maybe he should have done some research before coming.

“Teach me?” he asks, because it’s the only option and he doesn’t want to be a fool, not in front of Alhaitham.

It seems to come off as a surprise, because Alhaitham’s mouth quirks up a little, as if he had just tasted something as good as the kunafa from earlier.

“Take it in your mouth,” he instructs, and Kaveh shivers in a way that is completely platonic. “Now, listen to me before taking a drag. Go slow. You can close your eyes if it helps. Just go slow, deep, until your lungs are full. Then you can exhale.”

Alhaitham is bossy, and Kaveh doesn’t complain. He only inhales once he is done speaking, taking every instruction into his mind as his lungs fill up with smoke and a smooth, minty flavor takes over his mouth. Then, he exhales, eyes wide at the large puff of smoke that leaves his lips. Overall, it didn’t feel bad. A little strange, maybe, like any new sensation, but it still tastes good in his lips.

“Don’t be greedy, now. You can pass it on after a drag.”

“I was appreciating it,” Kaveh says, pointedly, but doesn’t deny Alhaitham his turn.

“Well, it’s not a good idea to appreciate too much on your first time.”

“What can I do if I’m a hedonist?”

The question was rhetoric, but Alhaitham’s lips still quirk up in a dangerous sort of smile.

“Watch.”

He inhales gently, taking his time, then lets out the littlest cough. A smoke ring. One after the other, now, in quick succession, until there’s no more smoke in his mouth. His mouth, hanging so close to the mouthpiece. The mouthpiece they have been sharing.

Damn it. He shouldn’t feel so weak at the thought.

With no objections towards his own greed, Alhaitham takes another drag, eyes half’-lidded and fixed on Kaveh. More smoke rings, this time in his direction, and they’re not even close, but the smoke that reaches him feels like an invitation all the same. Kaveh sucks in a sharp breath.

“Alright, you’ve shown off enough. Let me try,” he says, only challenging because he doesn’t trust himself with anything else.

“I almost want to say no.”

Kaveh takes the mouthpiece to himself and drags in a slow, controlled breath. The mint hits harder this time, a little intoxicating as his eyes meet Alhaitham’s. He’s never known how to blow smoke rings, but he lets his mouth hang open in a small O anyway, exhaling heavily so it can reach Alhaitham’s face.

“That’s impolite,” Alhaitham mutters, but he hardly seems to care about impolite when he takes the mouthpiece from Kaveh’s hand and places it upon his lower lip.

“And stealing is not?”

“I’ve already told you you’re not taking more than one drag each time.”

“Bossy.”

Alhaitham huffs.

“You’re a brat, but you don’t see me pointing that out, do you?”

Kaveh clicks his tongue, but he’s mesmerized when Alhaitham takes his next drag anyway. The smoke is the color of his hair, he realizes, and the qalyan is a good match for his eyes. He supposes color matching in his mind is all he can do if he doesn’t want it infested with different thoughts about his roommate.

Alhaitham exhales his second drag through his nose, letting out a satisfied little hum, and Kaveh finds that he is hanging by a thread.

“So, do you like it?” he asks, nonchalant as ever.

“I’d like it better if you didn’t hog it,” Kaveh complains, accepting the mouthpiece from his hand. “Tastes good, though.”

They must taste about the same right now. Sweet and minty, painted with smoke, Alhaitham’s tongue probably hanging on to the last tastes of coffee. Inhale. Kaveh wants to see by himself. A sharp exhale, followed by a small coughing fit.

“There you go, overdoing it,” Alhaitham says, but his voice is soft – gentle, almost. “Drink some water, Kaveh.”

He does as Alhaitham tells him, watching between sips as he takes a shorter drag of the smoke for himself, and then they’re just looking at each other, something strange filling the air. Kaveh feels the urge to fidget.

“All better?”

“All better,” Kaveh says, so low it might as well be a whisper. “I wouldn’t have fucked up if you weren’t distracting me, anyway.”

Alhaitham chortles.

“And how exactly am I doing that?”

Kaveh steals the mouthpiece again and abstains from the question with smoke filling his throat and lungs. There’s a pleasant buzz to it, though he doesn’t know if the rush on his chest comes from the nicotine or Alhaitham’s watchful eyes. Might as well be both. He exhales through his nose this time, just a little eager to show off, and Alhaitham shoots him a smile.

“Just as I thought,” he says. “You got the hang of it fast.”

You thought of it? Kaveh thinks, feeling more than a little pathetic.

“I always do,” he says instead.

Alhaitham hums as he takes the mouthpiece to himself, fiddling with it between long fingers.

“I’ve heard something about you. That you’re the little light of the–”

“Not a word about that.”

Alhaitham smirks as if he’s thinking about whether he will extend Kaveh that kindness, then takes a long drag from the pipe, closing his eyes as he holds the smoke in. He opens them back in the exhale, staring at Kaveh as a cloud of smoke surrounds him.

“I think it’s impressive, really. For a student to be better known than professionals in his region? I thought you’d revel at that.”

“That’s the thing, though. I’m not a professional – won’t be for a few years, I’m actually getting a dual degree. I haven’t done anything. I’d be fine being their light the moment I have my designs dotting the streets. I don’t, though.”

“You write good papers,” Alhaitham objects. “I’ve read a few.”

“Why?” Kaveh asks, a little mortified.

“I, too, think the old and the new could and should coexist. Your ideas on terracotta cooling systems are nothing short of genius.”

Kaveh huffs out a short laugh.

“I didn’t know you were interested in architecture.”

“I’m not. Cyno showed it to me.”

In the end, Kaveh is quite glad it’s not his turn with the pipe, because that would have given him a coughing fit.

“And why do you and Cyno talk about me?!”

Alhaitham lets out a little chortle, but his cheeks are flushed all the same.

“He asked about you first, when he first found out we room together. Which, by the way, means you also talk about me.”

“I talk about everyone!” Kaveh tries to defend himself. It comes out terrible.

“He was the one who alerted me to your forgetfulness, by the way. And sometimes he just… asks how you’re doing. How we’re doing together. He’s said we’d make good friends once, but I didn’t see it.”

“Oh, wow.”

“I mean, I don’t dance. I’m hardly ever even out of the dorms when he’s with you.”

“I don’t just go from club to club all day!”

Alhaitham chuckles.

“Now I know better.”

“Pfft. I bet you’re saying all that just to rile me up.”

“If you’re riled up, it’s your own fault,” Alhaitham says, then finally takes his second drag of smoke, coughing out unapologetic rings in his direction. Kaveh pokes a hand through one of them, just to see it dissipate. “Hey!”

“Not my fault you keep aiming at my face,” he points out. “Gimme that.”

“I thought people appreciated eye contact,” Alhaitham says, and it’s not even a good attempt at a lie.

It happens in a split second – Kaveh gets up, and then he’s already inhaling from the mouthpiece, keeping eye contact as he exhales the heady smoke and gets an even headier look from Alhaitham.

“See. You’re worse than me.”

“Not in a million years,” Kaveh bites back, then guides the hose closer to Alhaitham’s face, so close he may as well be the one feeding him the mouthpiece. If only he didn’t catch it right as it gets close to his lips, maybe he would have.

“Want to go back, already?” Alhaitham asks, feigning innocence.

“Not really an already when the sun’s about to set, is it?”

It is only then that Alhaitham looks out into the street, eyes wide, as if he had lost track of time.

“Oh. Maybe we should go.”

“Of course. You have to be asleep in an hour, after all.”

“I go to sleep at ten, Kaveh. Just because you never sleep, doesn’t mean I’m allergic to the night.”

Kaveh huffs, but he doesn’t make a fuss as they prepare to go out, paying their bills – with a good tip for both Layla and the man at the bar — and pushing little spots of ash into the ashtray. He might be a little dizzy, but he says nothing about it. Alhaitham would love to be proven right.

“You really should come dance with me, Cyno and Tighnari,” he says when they’re out, taking brisk steps so he’s always shoulder-to-shoulder with Alhaitham. “Sometimes the girls from the dorm join. Nilou, Dehya…”

“I really don’t dance.”

“Oh, come on. How are you so buff, then?”

Alhaitham coughs out a little laugh.

“I’m not buff. I fence, though.”

“That has got to be made up.”

“I do,” Alhaitham insists. “You can come watch practice if you want. I was obsessed with swords as a child, and once I went to live with my grandma, she signed me up for it. It made sense to continue in the university team.”

“Knowing you’re a grandma’s boy gives new meaning to so many things.”

“I’m not a grandma’s boy. Either that or everyone is someone’s. Are you a parents’ boy?”

“Just the mother, I’m afraid. My dad passed when I was pretty young,” Kaveh says, a little quieter than before.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Alhaitham looks at him, guilt written all over his face. He’s not that easy to read, usually, and something about that makes Kaveh’s ribs feel tight around his heart. “I lost my parents, too.”

“Oh,” Kaveh echoes, feeling just as guilty as Alhaitham looked just a moment ago for thinking he was somewhat spoiled. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright. I lucked out with my grandma.”

“Does she live close?”

A pause. Alhaitham looks like he just ate something sour.

“She died when I was about to turn twenty.”

Kaveh sucks in a sharp breath. Oh.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, but it lacks the depth he wishes he could give Alhaitham. It feels too generic, too casual. He can’t imagine losing his mother, and he’s hardly even close to her, now that she has a whole new family to call her own. “Did she… did she have a good run?”

Alhaitham’s expression softens. He doesn’t look mad at Kaveh – not at all.

“Maybe the best. She was never too lucky, but she made it work.” There’s a sad little smile on his face, one that makes Kaveh look away, suddenly shy. “She was an architect, too, but she’s the one who got me interested in languages. Sure, the first one I learned after my mother tongue was just to go to school here without missing out on anything, but she’d buy me books and take me to the museum, show me all sorts of symbols and things from the ancient world.”

“Sounds like she’d get along with my dad,” Kaveh says before he can stop himself. “Maybe they’re getting along somewhere.”

“Somewhere,” Alhaitham repeats. “Not sure if I believe in that, but maybe. I’d hope so.”

“Hope’s enough,” Kaveh mutters, barely louder than the sound of traffic and rowdy students as they reach the campus. “You know, I’m hoping we do this again.”

“Get Cyno to trade rare cards with me, and I’ll go dancing with you.”

“Deal.”

***

Fighting Cyno for Alhaitham’s right to a very specific card he’s had his eyes on for years is an uphill battle, but Kaveh doesn’t go into it expecting to lose. He wants to take Alhaitham out dancing, and if Cyno’s card decks are to suffer, then that’s a small detail in the grand scheme of things. He ends up winning by promising Cyno to buy him a bag of the newest surprise set of whatever game he picks, along with interfacing for Alhaitham for a rarer card than the one he had offered before.

“Why are you so focused on this, anyway?” Cyno eventually asks, looking at a holographic card like it is a divine revelation. “I don’t know that Alhaitham will enjoy clubbing, honestly. Not every autistic person is a Lord Jackal waiting to be released into the world.”

“And I thank the powers that be for that,” Kaveh teases. “But to answer your question, I… don’t know. He suggested our last hangout spot. It feels only fair that I surprise him this time around.”

“Surprise him with what? Gay people?” Cyno laughs. “Kaveh, if you look at the other side of the rainbow, Alhaitham will be waiting with a mountain of gold.”

Kaveh huffs.

“You’re terrible.”

“You’re the one with a crush.”

“That was you only two years ago. Don’t get cocky.”

Cyno’s smile turns softer, dreamier, and Kaveh just knows he’s thinking about Tighnari. Terrible, indeed.

“Any day now, I’ll have a full-on husband,” he says, then snaps out of it to shoot Kaveh a mean look. “Meanwhile, I could make a desk out of you.”

“What in the world could that possibly mean?”

“You’ve grown into a pine tree.”

Kaveh laughs, moreso out of disbelief than the humor of Cyno’s joke.

“I’m not pining for anyone. Much less a roommate.”

“But it’s the perfect arrangement! You even have a room where you can mate!”

He can’t help cracking up at that, absurd as it may sound. Though he’ll never say it out loud, Cyno’s jokes can be priceless.

“If you make a sex joke again, I’m leaving.”

“So you do have a crush.”

“Kindly fuck off.”

***

It takes them all a while to find a date in which they can get pleasantly buzzed and dance the night away without being reminded of deadlines, but a few Fridays later, there Kaveh is, getting ready side by side with Alhaitham. He tries not to pay him much mind, doesn’t want to be spoiled for what he thinks is club-adequate hair, so he focuses on draping a silky wrap blouse around his torso and finishing it off with a haphazard knot that contrasts with the delicate sheer burgundy fabric. It shines a little under the light, dotted with almost-invisible shiny thread that always makes him feel a little ethereal, and befits the chain he wears around his waist perfectly. He might put on a choker, but that’ll be after he finally decides on what bottoms to wear, tired of all his options. Wide legs are back, but he’s not keen on having them stepped on by any unknowing bystanders, though he doesn’t want to be seen with pitiful eyes by the younger generation if he wears skinny jeans. He settles for dark, slim pants that hug his ass but still allow his calves to breathe somewhat. They accent the silver of his chain belt, allowing him to get bold with shoe choices if he feels up for it. He’ll decide once he’s done with makeup and accessories.

“I’m ready,” Alhaitham chimes in from his side of the room.

“I’m very much not,” Kaveh says, shooting him a look. All black. How predictable.

He gets to highlighter – not an everyday part of his routine, but one he can’t resist when he knows there’ll be colorful lights on him all night – and eyeliner before he hears Alhaitham pace the room, heavy boots making a pleasant noise that reverberates around them.

“Alhaitham,” he calls out. “Ever been drunk?”

“I’ve had beer. And wine.” Alhaitham sounds a little more focused now, a little more grounded. “Not enough to make me red or for me to notice any changes in my behavior.”

“And would you like to?” Kaveh smiles as he applies dots of lip tint all over his lips.

“I didn’t have many opportunities until now,” he answers. “It all seems a little… unnecessary. Intoxicate yourself in a crowd of people you don’t know, make your way home with less than half of your usual awareness.”

Oh. Alhaitham is afraid. And for good reason; the points he raises have worried Kaveh in the past, too.

“Tighnari doesn’t drink unless it’s a special celebration,” he says, “and Cyno is done by the time he has sampled all the worst drinks the bar has to offer. I plan on refraining, too. You won’t be vulnerable.”

Alhaitham huffs.

“I can defend myself.” A pause. “But thanks.”

“I’m just being decent,” Kaveh says as he tightens a choker around his neck, one with a bunch of little silver pendants he attached to it himself. “I should be ready in ten, if you feel like texting the boys.”

“The boys,” Alhaitham repeats with a chuckle. “They’re older than us.”

“And smaller!” Kaveh counters, gleeful, as he finally picks a pair of boots fit for the occasion and wrestles them into his feet.

He gives himself a last look in the mirror, deciding he does clean up well. His hair is pulled back with holographic silver barrettes today, small braids joining each other to create a sort of crown in the back of his head, and his ears jingle softly when he moves them, the result of wearing some of his most traditional earrings, the ones he got on a trip to his mother’s hometown approximately a thousand years ago. His outfit is darker than usual – anything light tends to come home looking muddy from the club –, but he feels confident in it, enough that he does a little twirl in front of his wardrobe mirror.

“Tighnari’s five minutes away,” Alhaitham announces, and Kaveh feels like he could cry from embarrassment being caught like this.

“Let’s head down,” he says instead.

“Sounds good to me.”

It is only then that he allows himself more than just one glance at Alhaitham. He is wearing a black turtleneck, yes, but this one is tight and sleeveless, leaving his muscles and a smattering of freckles uncovered. There’s jewelry on his upper arms, too, leading to a pair of fingerless mesh gloves that have Kaveh yearning to touch. And then, of course, there is the damned thing he has been trying to ignore all evening: a teal harness, all squares and straight lines over his torso, the teal pleather shining even in their shitty dorm light. It forms a V over his neck and then goes down, down, down, hugging his waist sinfully with two thick straps that also connect to his broad shoulders, and Kaveh thinks he might be hyperventilating. He focuses on the point right between his collarbones, where a green gem rests instead of the usual metallic rings, and takes a deep, deep breath.

“I didn’t know you owned kinky clothes,” he accuses Alhaitham, because there’s nothing else left to do.

“It’s not kinky unless you see it like that. And I didn’t, until Dehya got it from a modeling job and said I could have it.” Alhaitham shrugs. “It would clash with her colors, she said.”

Kaveh lets out a small, incredulous laugh. Before they go downstairs, he fiddles with the last straps on his boots, then adjusts his pants over them, getting an impatient look from Alhaitham.

“Always, always late.”

“It’s not like they won’t wait for us,” Kaveh says, defensive. “Besides, this took a minute. We’ll be there as they arrive.”

“Sure. Let’s go, now,” Alhaitham answers, extending his hand and dropping it the moment Kaveh gets close enough to actually take it. Not that he would.

Once they get out of the building, Tighnari greets them with a friendly honk from the car, an old yet comfortable thing he got back when he and Cyno moved in together. Cyno whoops from the passenger seat, donning his nightclub best – which won’t stay on his upper body for too long, knowing him. They both call out to them at the same time, which gets a chuckle out of Kaveh as he opens the back door.

“You can go in first,” Alhaitham says when he notices him holding the door. Kaveh feels a flush creep up his neck, but says nothing on the matter.

“Finally!” Cyno says, looking back at them. “Kaveh, I can’t believe you got Alhaitham to look kinky.”

Alhaitham covers his face with his hands.

“I did nothing.”

“He was too busy making us late,” Alhaitham complains from between his hands.

“No one’s late. The night’s just getting started!” Tighnari counters, shooting them a look before starting the car. “Last call for playlist suggestions, by the way, if you don’t want the best of 2000s Algerian music to grace your ears.”

“Or anime openings,” Cyno suggests.

“Sorry, Cyno, but I’ll go with raï on this one.” Kaveh laughs.

“No objections, Alhaitham?” Cyno pleads.

“If I don’t like it, I have my headphones either way.”

“That’s so completely not fair. You must vote.”

“I abstain.”

Tighnari cackles before turning on his personal favorite playlist, one that has warmed up many nights out with Cyno and Kaveh. He recognizes the first song immediately, taps his knees to the beat. Alhaitham looks vaguely appreciative.

“Kaveh, keys?” Tighnari asks, beginning his routine check.

“I have them,” Alhaitham says. Kaveh lightly elbows him, much to his dismay. “What? They were on the dresser.”

“Everyone, ear plugs?”

Alhaitham hums in agreement and Cyno proudly shows off his tiny little earplugs, decorated with metallic pendants and a cord that keeps them secured to one of his thousand necklaces. Kaveh stays silent.

“Kaveh!”

“Last I checked, you wanted to be an epidemiologist, not an ear doctor.”

“It seems like you’ll be needing one, either way,” Tighnari grumbles.

“They’re uncomfy.”

“Try headphones,” Alhaitham suggests.

“My hearing is just fine!”

“Or ignore your own health. That’s also an option.” His roommate’s voice sounds almost amused. He suddenly wants to throw him out of the car, but it’s far too late – Tighnari is already driving them out of the campus.

They talk about everything and nothing on the way to the club. Cyno and Alhaitham trade cards – because they’re nerds with big bags who take their decks everywhere, apparently – and Tighnari goes on about edible flowers he learned about during an expedition to some woods nearby. Kaveh watches them, trying not to think too hard about how all his closest friends are in the car. He’s not even sure Alhaitham would call him a friend, though they talk most days, even if just to bring each other lunch from Lambad’s Kebabs or complain about the two classes they share.

Finally, they arrive at their least usual haunt, a higher-end rave-ish sound of thing they only go to when Kaveh’s not extremely keen on finding a hookup and they all have money for fancy cocktails – or whiskey on the rocks, in Cyno’s case. He figured they might show the best of their nightlife to Alhaitham before he completely dips, and Tighnari had been itching to show off his newest atrocity of a top, a cropped hoodie with one of the sleeves completely severed. Somehow, it befits him, and it doesn’t look too outrageous with the long-sleeved mesh shirt he has underneath or his bottoms, a green sarwal with colorful agus all around his waist and hips. Cyno looks colorful tonight, too, with black trousers and a purple mesh top lying under a thousand different necklaces, all glittering gold with beads. Kaveh thinks the top might last ten minutes this time around.

“Ready?” he asks Alhaitham, low enough that the others won’t hear as they make small talk with the bouncer.

“I suppose it’s now or never,” Alhaitham says, paralyzed in the same spot even as Tighnari and Cyno are given the okay to go inside.

Kaveh needs a drink or twenty before he does something stupid like offering Alhaitham his hand. He most definitely wouldn’t take his hand. He might even be offended. He extends it anyway.

“Oh?” Alhaitham looks in his direction, brows furrowed.

“Let’s go,” he says, simply. His mouth is too dry for more.

Alhaitham takes his hand, interlocks their fingers. Kaveh takes a deep breath, but still stutters as he greets the bouncer. They vaguely know each other, though, enough that things go smoothly and they can join Cyno and Tighnari in no more than a minute. Tighnari looks pointedly at their hands, but says nothing. Cyno looks, too, but he’s far less discreet about it, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“We should get some drinks,” Kaveh says, stammering like a teenager caught with a crush. “Warm up for the night.”

“You look warmed up plenty.” Cyno snickers.

“I’ll be having none of that,” he replies, but soon they’re all laughing together.

He leads the way to the bar, getting Alhaitham a fine drinks menu before he has the chance to ask. Tighnari takes one for Cyno, pointing at different options as they huddle together, only for him to order a bottle of beer.

“I tried,” Tighnari tells Kaveh with a sigh.

“Not everyone shares our expensive taste.” Kaveh joins in his commiseration, already thinking of the champagne cocktail he sampled the last time they came here. “Alhaitham?”

“They don’t have wine,” he says, looking slightly bewildered.

“It’s a club,” Kaveh answers.

“They have champagne,” Tighnari says. “I’d suggest a cocktail, though. Just don’t go for anything with vodka while you haven’t eaten.”

Alhaitham hums, then leaves him for the bar. Cyno comes back with a bottle of fancy water for Tighnari and his beer, eyes already a little hooded with bliss.

“It’s ice cold,” he says, contentedly taking a sip, then offers Tighnari his water. “Dance floor or snacks?”

“Dance floor,” Tighnari answers, taking Cyno’s hand and running with him to a darker spot of the club. “See ya!”

Huffing at his abandonment, Kaveh gets to the bar to order his drink, a heady mix of champagne and bitters they list as Night and Day. A bartender’s shaking something close to Alhaitham, making small talk as he mostly looks down, and he resists the urge to get closer, to take his hand again and abscond with him. In the end, he doesn’t need to; Alhaitham finds him as soon as he has his drink in hand, something green and bubbly that goes perfectly with his outfit. Kaveh’s starting to think he has a preference for everything green, no matter how it tastes or looks.

“What’s that?” he asks, soft enough that only they will hear it through the deep bass that fills the club.

“Arise, My Love,” Alhaitham answers, and he thinks he might short-circuit. This club needs less eccentric drink names.

“Well, I’m all arisen,” Kaveh says, aiming for playful. “Mine’s Night and Day. Don’t you want some water, too?”

“Mmm. Later,” he decides, voice lilting into something like a request. “This is a little overwhelming. Can we find a table?”

Kaveh nods quickly, scanning the tables for an empty one. He finds one right around a corner, with a white sofa that sprawls to hug the wall, and motions to it so Alhaitham will follow, walking at a brisker pace than usual so they won’t miss out.

Finally, he takes a seat, leaving the very corner to Alhaitham. It seems cozier there, or as cozy as a nightclub can be. Alhaitham slides into a seat, then moves so their shoulders are touching, one hand hooked around the cord of his headphones.

“We can go outside, if you want,” Kaveh offers.

“Here’s good. People are just… very talkative.”

Kaveh lets out a small chortle.

“Well, I’m talkative, too.”

“We’re friends. It’s different.”

“Oh.”

He can’t help smiling at that, though he does his best to disguise it by sipping from his cup. Eventually, Alhaitham tries out his own, too, eyes closing as he swallows it down.

“Good?”

“Bubbly,” Alhaitham complains. “I didn’t think the carbonation would be so… aggressive.”

“I can finish yours, and we’ll get you something else,” Kaveh suggests.

“No.”

He chortles as Alhaitham braves through his drink, eventually relaxing into the seat and tilting his head as he watches the dance floor. There’s someone doing pyrotechnics at the stage, and he briefly thinks of recording it to show Dehya later, but then Alhaitham’s pointing at something else, his face completely delighted, and he forgets everything. At an emptier side of the dance floor, two people are throwing an LED hoop at each other and dancing with it, moving so naturally one would think it’s rehearsed.

“Pretty, right?” Kaveh asks, so much more tender than he meant to sound.

“I’m not usually moved by the arts, but it’s beautiful,” he says.

Kaveh laughs. “Nilou owns one of those. I’m not sure she still performs with it these days, but we could go watch her sometime.”

“Maybe,” Alhaitham says, soft.

They watch in silence for a few minutes, until Alhaitham is done with his drink and Kaveh is halfway through. He’ll get drunk like this.

“Go slow,” he tells Alhaitham. “You don’t want to get blackout drunk. Trust me.”

“I’ve never been drunk, so I presume I’m not a lightweight.”

“You’ve never had cocktails.”

Alhaitham huffs.

“We can have water,” he concedes.

“And a snack,” Kaveh demands. “I’m actually pretty hungry. Did you see they have a cheese platter? Oh, maybe with some dips…”

Before he’s done daydreaming, Alhaitham cuts him out with a chuckle.

“We can get that. With the pita chips, though – I don’t want to starve.”

“Alright, alright,” Kaveh says, barely able to contain his excitement at the thought of fancy cheese cubes and a whole spread of dips. “I’ll order for us.”

“I’ll go with you. I want another drink.”

“You’ll get drunk.”

“It’s fine if I do. I’ve got company.”

That you do, Kaveh thinks, far too soft.

They look at the online menu for a while, Kaveh contemplating what to get next so he doesn’t go behind tipsy and Alhaitham looking at each option with curious dedication. Eventually, he pulls up a Wikipedia page, reading up on Midori.

“I could have just told you it’s melon liqueur,” Kaveh says, nudging him.

“Well, I’ve already checked. Have you had it before?”

“Yeah. I like it. It’s sweet, though – maybe go for a sour if you don’t want that.”

Alhaitham nods slowly, then gets up. When he offers Kaveh his hand, he takes it. No big deal, no tachycardia. Definitely not.

“I can still order for us,” he says, close to Alhaitham’s ear.

“The Midori Cosmopolitan,” Alhaitham answers, and it might be the colorful light, but it looks like he might be blushing.

Kaveh makes their order with Alhaitham’s hand still on his own, both of them fidgeting until they settle on poking at each other’s thumbs. A caress with twenty times the energy. From there, they can see Cyno and Tighnari dancing, looking like they’re all alone in their own little world, limbs thrown around each other possessively. Cyno’s shirt is gone, wrapped around his waist like a hoodie, and he plays with the rope around Tighnari’s waist like he’s holding back from unraveling it. Kaveh looks away.

“They’re a sweet couple,” he muses.

“Cyno’s shirtless,” Alhaitham says, somewhat alarmed.

“As are half the other people in here.” Kaveh laughs.

“I don’t know half the people in here.”

Kaveh chortles and shakes his head as the bartender gives him their first drink, the Midori Cosmopolitan, and gets to work on his strawberry daiquiri. Someone else is preparing their snacks, setting up two plates upon a tray, and Alhaitham takes care of it once it’s handed to them, dutifully taking it back to their table.

Once they’re all set, Kaveh offers Alhaitham his drink, then takes a sip of his own, the freshness of the daiquiri all he needs after the intense flavor of his first drink. He stabs a cube of cheese with a plastic pick and dips it on some yogurt, dairy meeting dairy in a comforting mixture of flavors. Alhaitham takes a chip, hand encased with a napkin, and dips it on the bowl of spinach dip.

“You’re so monochromatic,” Kaveh says, unable to hide his intrigue anymore.

“Green tastes good,” Alhaitham answers, shrugging as he takes his first sip out of his cocktail. “Oh. This one’s better than the last.”

“You’re wearing a green harness. There’s green on your boots,” Kaveh counters, bordering on accusatory.

“Green looks good.”

He can’t help cracking up at that.

“What’s so funny?” Alhaitham asks, shooting him a look he can’t quite decode.

“You’re just… a green gummy bear.”

Alhaitham chortles, clicking his tongue as if he completely disagreed even though he’s nodding softly.

“I do hope I’m not chewy.”

“I can find out,” Kaveh suggests.

They laugh together this time, Alhaitham louder than he’s ever heard, his laugh a disconcerting chime amidst the heavy bass.

“If you bite me in public, it’s over for you.”

In public.

“So threatening,” Kaveh teases. “How about dancing? Will you take me to the dance floor, or will we be here all night?”

“You can dance whenever you want,” Alhaitham says, taking another chip. “I’m horrible at it.”

“You could follow my lead,” Kaveh suggests, borderline whiny. Brandy, champagne, Cointreau, Angostura, rum… alright, he might be guilty of mixing his booze. It doesn’t help that Alhaitham is downright intoxicating. “We could dance here. You say ‘stop’, and we will.”

“Mmm. Buy me a drink, and I’ll consider it,” Alhaitham decides.

“You’ve barely started yours. Besides, you haven’t had water all night. Do you expect me to resurrect you from your hangover tomorrow?”

Alhaitham lets out a sound between a sigh and a grunt, then tries a piece of cheese. His face is only slightly contorted down, lips pursed, but by now Kaveh knows it’s a sign he hates it.

“How about you get us water and a drink? We can share. Put two straws in it.”

Kaveh sighs, defeated, because he cannot possibly resist the way Alhaitham’s green eyes rest in his direction, turned multicolor by the club spotlights. And because he’s found that he quite likes Alhaitham’s brand of shenanigan, and there couldn’t be a worse discovery to make tonight.

“I’ll be back.”

He makes it quick: two bottles of water and an appletini to share, ready in no more than a few minutes, and then a brisk walk back to the table. It doesn’t feel good to leave Alhaitham alone, be it because this is a new place for him or because he actually likes his company. Decisively, he plops a bottle of water in front of him, then takes a seat and opens his own with only a minimal amount of struggle.

“What’s that one?” Alhaitham asks through a sip of his Midori Cosmopolitan.

“Appletini,” he says. “A martini, but make it actually tasty. Now have some water.”

“You never tire of bossing me around.”

“It works.” Kaveh watches Alhaitham drink a hearty sip, then two, of ice-cold water. A droplet spills down his chin. He tries not to stare at it when it makes its way down his neck. “Have some more snacks, too. You don’t want to get a headache later.”

Though Alhaitham mutters something under his breath, he eats a few more chips in between sips of water and booze, more balanced than Kaveh himself. They successfully eat the whole chip plate before they’re done with their drinks, and it takes Alhaitham all of two seconds to make eyes at the appletini.

“Think you can manage another sip of water for me?” Kaveh asks, nudging Alhaitham’s bottle closer to him and trying not to grin when he nods. Ultimately, he hides his smile with a sip from his own bottle, working his way into a pleasant tipsy buzz rather than drunken chaos.

When he turns his head back to Alhaitham, he’s surprised to find the appletini glass between them, tightly grasped in his hand. He sighs when Alhaitham gestures to it with his chin, shaking his head for good measure, but he can’t quite help the way his heart races at the sight.

“Ready when you are,” Alhaitham says, smiling wider than ever as he ducks his head towards the straw closest to him.

“In three, two, one,” Kaveh counts as he takes the other straw between his fingers.

It’s strange, to look at Alhaitham with nothing but a glass between them, to know he’s tasting the exact same thing as him at the exact same time. He wonders how the flavor mixes with the Midori he just had, apple and melon meeting on his tongue and throat and oh, he could just lean in and find out, but Alhaitham’s eyes are on his and they are multicolored, actually, specks of blue and amber swimming from the center of his irises to the very ends, and he can’t close his eyes, can’t look away.

“Tastes good,” Alhaitham says, so close Kaveh can feel the warmth of his breath.

“Yeah?” Kaveh asks, a little too dazed to provide commentary of his own. “Good.”

They’re touching, now, shoulder to knee to feet that insist on getting in each other’s way, and it feels nothing short of electrifying, a drunkenness stronger than anything Kaveh could get from the club. He doesn’t want to dance anymore, doesn’t want anything except perhaps to climb into Alhaitham’s lap, to kiss him between shared sips of their drink, but he still has a semblance of dignity. He wouldn’t dare ruin this moment.

“Good,” Alhaitham repeats when Kaveh takes another sip from his straw, heavy eyes focused on his every movement. A shiver runs up his neck and down his spine; he feels naked under his look, or otherwise just perceived, noticed in a way he has never quite felt before.

He should have noticed his friends approaching. Damn it, Alhaitham should have noticed, taken those beautiful, lovely green eyes off of his face for a moment and looked at their surroundings, and maybe they wouldn’t have jumped at the same time, alcohol spilling all over their shirts. Alhaitham makes a sound of distress at it, so vulnerable Kaveh cares more about immediately handing him some napkins than properly facing Cyno and Tighnari, but by the moment one of them opens their mouth, he already looks perfectly composed again. What a curious, beautiful, infuriating man he is.

“You’re drunk,” Tighnari says, though he doesn’t sound too accusing. “Good. Just behave in the car – we just cleaned it the other day.”

“They’re drunk in love,” Cyno adds with a soft snicker. Tighnari gives him a pat to the lower back. “Or not. Obviously. You two are so discreet I could never assume what’s going on under those poker faces.”

“With all due respect, fuck you,” Kaveh says, more than a little disappointed at the interruption. “How’s the dance floor?”

“Getting hectic,” Cyno says, back to his usual, serious face. “Let it be known that mesh is horrible at drying spilled beer.”

“The floor is officially sticky,” Tighnari declares. “We can still find a nicer corner, though.”

“Alhaitham?” Kaveh asks with a soft nudge to his shoulder.

“No, thank you.”

“Then we’ll dance some other day,” Kaveh decides. “You guys want cheese?”

“Oh, those look beautiful,” Cyno says, picking an aggressively orange cheese cube. “You should eat, Nari. No driving on an empty stomach.”

“I’ve had juice,” Tighnari complains, but soon he’s digging into the platter, too.

Little by little, they vanquish the remaining cheese cubes, and Kaveh and Alhaitham finish their drink, though not at the same time. Just thinking of what their friends might have thought sends a chill down Kaveh’s spine – he’d rather not give them another chance to speculate. He knows it’s all in good faith, and he knows he wouldn’t be less loved by Cyno or Tighnari for being the fool he is, but he doesn’t particularly need them to know he might be harboring a crush.

Fuck. A crush. It had been a solid while, and now he doesn’t know what to do with the thought that what he feels for Alhaitham is a crush. He wishes he could get over it in the span of a minute; it won’t lead anywhere, anyway, and he can’t afford to fall in love with someone as beautiful and as unattainable as his roommate. There’s that, too: they’re roommates. He’s so very screwed.

No one has to know, though. He can sleep it off, and he’ll have more clarity the next time he wakes up. There’s no need to panic.

Well, they still have to pay for their tabs, and Kaveh is glad everyone chips in for the snacks because those were a splurge, and the last sip of appletini goes down bitter when he thinks they’re leaving so soon. Sure, it’s an unholy hour for any university student, but it felt good, this break from the outside world. He’s not ready to leave, he finds as they make their way to where Tighnari parked the car.

He settles into the backseat with a soft sigh, the last drops of alcohol drying on his blouse and leaving the slightest stain, then feels Alhaitham more than he sees him, not yet prepared to look him in the eye. When he feels a hand on his own, his instinct is to make room, to leave him some space, but he’s insistent, lacing their fingers and trapping Kaveh’s hand underneath his own. He could resist it; he doesn’t.

“So,” Tighnari says, so distinctly sober Kaveh wonders if he’ll ever not be tipsy again. “How was your first clubbing experience, Alhaitham? I’m sorry we didn’t catch up with you guys soon enough. We assumed you’d dance.”

“Yet, it seems you were lost in a different type of sauce. Get it? Because you had dips,” Cyno adds. “The spinach was pretty good, come to think of it.”

Just when Kaveh thinks his heart has calmed down in his ribcage, Alhaitham lays on his shoulder. Briefly, he wonders if this is some sort of blackout drunk dream his unconscious is forcing on him.

“I’m dizzy now,” Alhaitham says, voice softer now that it doesn’t have to compete with the nightclub ambiance. “But it was fine. I’ve decided cocktails are fine.”

Cyno laughs at that, his affection filling the car.

“Well, good for you. You’re wrong, though.”

“I said they’re fine, not the greatest thing in the world.”

“Still wrong.”

“Never.”

They arrive at the campus soon enough, Tighnari kind enough to go out of his and Cyno’s way to drop them off close to the dorms before driving back home, and though he thinks the goodbyes and get home safes might never end, Kaveh finds himself missing his friends the moment they’re gone. By his side, Alhaitham is quiet, walking drunken zigzags on the pavement, and he thinks they might not talk at all, but eventually the alcohol gets the best of him and he can’t quite stand it anymore.

“Did you have fun?”

“I don’t think I’m ever doing that again,” Alhaitham says in lieu of a yes or a no. “It was good, though.”

“You should hang out with us more,” Kaveh replies, yearning eyes meeting Alhaitham’s back. He’s beautiful like this, with the shy sun laying its first rays over his shoulders and the cover of night still heavy enough to make his gray hair stand out even more than usual. “We like you.”

“I like you,” Alhaitham answers, blunt as always, and Kaveh is thankful he can’t see the flush that spreads down his cheeks and neck. “But it’s tiring. No one should be out of the house at the crack of dawn.”

“Need your beauty sleep?”

“Why, yes, I do.” His quiet laugh is quite audible like this, with just a few songbirds to witness them. “And my beauty shower.”

Kaveh doesn’t know what possesses him then – possibly a little despair at the thought of Alhaitham showering, rivulets of water traveling down those beautiful arms to meet long, long fingers and ah, fuck, he should not think of this –, but his mind fires a thousand ideas to keep him as far as possible from his roommate, scared to even look his way.

“You should go on, then,” he says, a little too soft around the edges. “I’ll make us breakfast. Nothing too proper – I’m too tired for that –, but definitely something green. You in?”

“How did you get to know me so well?” Alhaitham’s voice comes out quiet, but Kaveh knows he’s amused. “Alright, then. Something green. And coffee.”

“And coffee.”

***

An hour and way too much chopping for one tipsy man later, Kaveh has a platter of kuku sabzi on the table and the dreadful feeling that maybe Alhaitham went right back to sleep instead of coming to the building’s shared kitchen to share it with him. He alternates between sipping coffee and water, feeling his mind clear up a little more with each minute, but that doesn’t exactly help with his anxiety, so he decides to dig into the food to keep himself entertained. It’s delightful, but it could be better with some feta cheese or at the very least company. He has never enjoyed eating on his own.

When he hears footsteps on the stairs, Kaveh is ready to offer some of his breakfast to anyone who might be passing by, but he’s still startled by the sight of Alhaitham, now in a tight, body-hugging t-shirt and loose pants. His hair is a little wet, a single lock sticking to his face, and he looks slightly bewildered, as if there was an entire banquet on the table.

“You said nothing too proper.”

“And you said you’d eat with me,” Kaveh says, borderline whiny.

“And I will. It smells good. What’s in it?”

“Ah. It’s a dish my mother used to make a lot when I lived with her. It’s mostly chives, herbs and nuts with eggs to bind it all; it’s missing barberries, though, because I don’t usually cook much, so I end up never going out of my way to buy them.”

Alhaitham takes a mug of coffee and a plate from the cupboards with him to the table, immediately taking a hearty sip and humming in satisfaction.

“I needed this,” he says as he pulls a wedge of kuku sabzi into his plate with a fork Kaveh had left in the platter, waiting for him. “And the dish looks very good. Thank you.”

“I thought you’d gone to sleep,” Kaveh confesses.

“You said we’d have breakfast together,” Alhaitham says, so simple it is soothing. “It just turned out I needed a large beauty shower. As it turns out, it’s not very easy to wash your hair while drunk, and it’s even harder to sober up.”

“Your hair does have a lavender tint to it,” Kaveh muses. “Maybe don’t use purple shampoo next time you’re drunk. It sort of suits you, though. Ever thought of dying it purple?”

Alhaitham sort of gasps through a forkful of food, looking prettier than handsome for just a moment. Kaveh commits it to memory, blames his hands for being better at drawing places than people. He looks so soft, too, so alive, the curves of his lips and hands more dynamic than any archway could ever be. Kaveh would never be able to make justice to him, but he paints him in his mind’s canvas all the same.

“I’ve never dyed my hair. It just sounds… strenuous.”

Kaveh lets out a little laugh at his reaction, though it leaves him more puzzled than before. He had never really stopped to think about Alhaitham’s hair color; though the roots never show, he just assumed he took care of it often.

“You have gray hair in your early twenties?” he asks, then covers his mouth with one hand. “Sorry. That was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” Alhaitham says, though one of his hands finds his hair and smooths it at the roots, as if considering it. “It started when I was a child, in small chunks. It has to do with melanin production; it works just fine on my skin and in some of my body hair, but my head has been all gray since I was a teenager.”

“Huh. Does it bother you?”

“Not at all. I like it.”

Kaveh smiles in spite of himself.

“I like it, too.” He eats to hide just how flustered saying that out loud has made him, but his eyes just won’t leave Alhaitham – his hair, his eyes, the way he uses cutlery. Maybe he needs to get a grip. “I’m growing an accident with henna out,” he blurts out, so awkward it hurts. “I hate getting it shorter than this, because it’s the perfect ponytail length, but I wanted to try an ombre, and I thought henna wouldn’t be too permanent. Guess it was for me. Now I have the odd-colored tips.”

“It’s charming.” Suddenly, Kaveh’s hair isn’t odd anymore. “Goes with the hair clips.”

All Kaveh can say to that is a weak, ah, and then they finish their meal in silence, save for his promise to teach Alhaitham the recipe for kuku sabzi and his offer to store the leftovers. It’s hardly awkward, though; mostly, it’s just calm, a nice way to spend the morning. They finally go up the stairs to their shared dorm a few minutes after Kaveh is done with the dishes and Alhaitham has figured out a way to store their food in the overstuffed communal fridge, so close they bump shoulders every once in a while, and it hurts a little to open the door and know it will all soon be over. They still have some time, though, as they go through their usual routine, Kaveh brushing his teeth before Alhaitham does and taking a moment to remove his makeup and change into something that doesn’t smell like nightclub, too. Eventually, they find each other again, both a little awkward and a little hazy with the promise of sleep.

“Alhaitham?” Kaveh calls out, softly, as his roommate exchanges his headphones for the usual earplugs.

“You can call me Haitham, you know,” he says. “What is it, Kaveh?”

“It was good.”

“Are you going to sleep?” Alhaitham asks.

“No,” he confesses.

“Then we don’t need to say our goodbyes just yet.”

Kaveh’s heart races. It’s uncontrollable, at this point; just the tone of Alhaitham’s voice can have this effect on him, just a brush between shoulders or hands.

“Haitham, do you still feel drunk?”

“Not particularly,” Alhaitham says, taking a step closer. It’s enough for Kaveh to feel a flush warm up his cheeks.

“We could keep talking.”

“We could.” He nods. “I never gave you that dance, either, did I?”

“Oh. You didn’t. I suppose we’d need music, though, and my phone…”

Alhaitham’s closer to him now, far too close, and it makes Kaveh stop on his tracks, a little too dumbfounded to speak. Instead, he lets his hands find his shoulders, and he feels broad hands hover around his waist before settling.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Alhaitham says into his ear, as if it’s a secret.

“Haitham…” Kaveh finds himself whispering, too, though they’re all alone. Alhaitham moves to face him, still so watchful even when they’re close enough to share a breath, and it makes him melt. This just can’t be a platonic interaction. There would be no explanation for all of this, unless it’s all in his head. “Haitham, I want to kiss you.”

He braces himself for a refusal, for Alhaitham to disengage and say good night even though it’s light outside, but it never comes. Instead, he just laughs.

“You’d be the first.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

There it is, that boyish glow that makes him weak at the knees and gets his heart rebelling against his ribcage.

“May I?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

The principle of it makes Kaveh even weaker, but he still shakes his head.

“I want to ask. It’s important to ask.”

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham says, eyes narrowing to look at him. “I don’t care. Kiss me.”

Kaveh lets out a small chuckle as he leans in further, one hand snaking up Alhaitham’s neck to cradle his face. Is this really his first time? That’s simply not possible; Alhaitham is too beautiful for that. He gives up on questioning it the moment their mouths meet, though, too busy with the way his lips feel and the soft little gasp they let out right into his own, sharing a huff of menthol breath.

It’s a small, chaste kiss, but it’s enough to make Kaveh ravenous. He’s dated before – too much, some of his wiser friends may say –, but he had never reacted to a simple peck like this. Alhaitham is just impossible, he decides.

“Was that all?” Alhaitham asks, hands tightening on his waist, and he takes a deep breath to stabilize himself.

“Oh, fuck you,” he says, and then he dives in in earnest, lips clashing against Alhaitham with all the want he has been trying to keep hidden away.

It’s hungrier on both sides, this time; Alhaitham gasps again, and Kaveh takes the opportunity to lick his lower lip, then nudge his tongue, softly at first, then rougher when he answers in kind. Alhaitham seems to like that, too, one hand traveling to the waistband of Kaveh’s pants while the other grabs at his waist for dear life, and he might not be experienced, but he makes up for it with sheer curiosity, quickly picking up what Kaveh enjoys and finding ways to improve it, as if this didn’t feel like a dream already.

Between the sheer force of their kisses and Kaveh’s ulterior motives, they eventually stumble upon Alhaitham’s bed, making them almost fall into the mattress before they break apart and look at each other, equal parts bewildered and blissed out. Alhaitham’s eyes widen as Kaveh gives him a small, playful push, and so he decides to go the verbal route – the one they’re both less likely to misunderstand.

“Can I sit on your lap?” he asks, suddenly a little shy.

“You can. Also, you may.” Alhaitham smiles, looking so satisfied with himself it makes Kaveh want to shake him a little. Bite him, perhaps.

“You’re terrible.”

“Somehow, I get the impression that that’s not all you think of me.”

Before he can answer, Alhaitham sits down at the foot of the bed, looking up at him with gleaming eyes that make him lose track of his own thoughts. They can’t be more important than straddling him, anyway. Kaveh tries to be charming about it, but he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in a few months and he might be a little out of practice, stumbling face-first into Alhaitham’s shoulder before he can find purchase anywhere.

“Oof.”

“I can kiss it better,” Alhaitham suggests.

“Lots of talk, but I’m not getting any kisses right now.”

Alhaitham initiates it this time, gentle hands finding Kaveh’s face and bringing him closer until they’re kissing, bodies pressed together hard enough that it wrings a sigh out of the both of them. Kaveh’s hands find his hair, then his back – deliciously broad and just as muscular as his arms, just as he suspected –, then settle on his shoulders so that he can move his hips, clumsily brushing against Alhaitham’s lap for the first time. He whines into his mouth, the sound as sweet as honey, and brings his own hands to Kaveh’s waist, guiding them to fully grind together, gasping into each other’s mouths at the contact. Alhaitham is hard, so easy to feel through their loose sleeping pants, and that’s all it takes for Kaveh to feel his own cock strain against his underwear.

“Feel good?” he asks into Alhaitham’s ear, kissing the space right under it as he feels his heavy breaths.

“Better than I imagined,” Alhaitham says, so casual it’s like he doesn’t know he’s slowly killing Kaveh.

“So you’ve imagined it,” Kaveh whispers, his grin audible in the tone of his voice. “You’ve imagined me.”

“You’re attractive.”

“Just because I’m pretty, doesn’t mean I thought you’d be automatically attracted to me.” He shrugs, the motion stunted by their closeness. “I… didn’t actually think you were. Actually, a few months ago, I thought you hated me.”

“You’re beautiful,” Alhaitham corrects, leaving him a little breathless. “But that’s not all. I’m not often attracted to people, and looking at a roommate like that sounded like trouble to me. But you wormed your way into my life, and there were multiple things I couldn’t ignore about you, so I made no effort to.”

“And there you are, calling me a worm.” Kaveh chuckles, hiding his flush against the crook of Alhaitham’s neck.

“I called you beautiful first.”

Kaveh burrows further into Alhaitham, resting his chin against his collarbone. There, he can smell him, from the faint aroma of the purple shampoo they tend to share to the scent of his perfume, all rainy notes with something not unlike damask roses – a favorite of his, along with inverted tulips – underneath. It takes over all of his senses for a moment, this careful exploration of what makes Alhaitham himself, before he can mumble something back.

“Thanks,” is all he lands on, though with none of the intended bite. He feels a little too sensitive to tease.

“I like the sound of that,” Alhaitham says with a kiss to the top of his head. “Don’t they say earnest things are said thrice, though?”

“Here I was, thinking you were going to keep being sweet to me,” Kaveh complains, then leans back to face him, one hand dropping to his chest.

“None of that means thank you.”

“I’ll say something else thrice, then,” Kaveh says, leaning in to steal a kiss from Alhaitham and bite at his lower lip, then nosing his way to his jaw before he can be convinced to just kiss him until the end of time. He nips at his jaw, too, then his neck, a little stronger this time, just enough to feel him tremble and tighten his hands around Kaveh’s waist. “Good?”

“Good,” Alhaitham says, so deep it brings a shiver to Kaveh’s body. “Now come back here. I want to try, too.”

Kaveh giggles at Alhaitham’s scholarly spirit, distantly realizing that he is absolutely gone as their lips meet and he feels teeth on his lower lip, clumsy and insistent and so good they drive a small sound out of his throat. Then he’s kissing down to his neck, chaste at first, then strong enough to make his eyes flutter closed. Though he’s expecting to be bitten, nothing could have prepared him for the moment it happens, when Alhaitham’s teeth sink down the very base of his neck and stay long enough that all he can do is let out a pathetic little sound of pleasure.

“You sound so good,” Alhaitham says into his skin, making goosebumps rise all over it. “Do you feel good, too, Kaveh?”

Even the way he says his name is enough to make Kaveh ache, from his heart down to his cock. He was truly a fool to think this couldn’t be a crush. At this point, it’s probably not.

“You’re doing well,” he whispers, expecting anything but the way Alhaitham’s hands drop to his hips and squeeze. “Yeah. That’s good.”

Alhaitham lifts his face to smile at him, larger than he’s ever seen, and steals a kiss that Kaveh would have given away the second he saw his gorgeous face, anyway. They stare at each other, foreheads pressed together, and for a moment all he can do is smile, too. These last few months, he’s been happier than in a long time. Funny to think it all started with him insisting Alhaitham color coordinate his notes.

“Are you this giggly every time you kiss someone?”

“No,” Kaveh says, immediately feeling a little defensive. “This is nice, alright?”

“I never said it wasn’t,” Alhaitham says, bringing him closer by the waist. “I want… more, actually.”

“How many firsts do you intend to have today, Haitham?”

Kaveh can’t help laughing when he sees Alhaitham blush, full-on and about as bright as a bell pepper, a whole garden blooming on his olive-brown skin. All the colors in him, muted as some of them tend to be, look so beautiful Kaveh wishes he could design an entire room with them. Perhaps live in it – perhaps have Alhaitham there, too. Hopefully, not only as a roommate.

“Plenty,” Alhaitham finally mutters, seeming shy for what might be the first time since they met. “Though I’m tired. Are you?”

“Horribly.” Kaveh sighs. “But I can’t really think of it when I’m on top of you.”

“Maybe I should get on top of you, instead.”

Kaveh has the dignity not to gasp at Alhaitham’s delightful suggestion, even as he allows him to guide him into laying down and slots a knee between his legs before they’re kissing again. This man just may be the end of him, and he’s happy about it.

It takes Kaveh only a few seconds to hook a leg around Alhaitham’s hip, and it takes Alhaitham less than that to thrust his hips softly against his own, making him bite down a noise. Once he figures out how to move his knee against his clothed cock, too, Kaveh has to bite down on his lip as they kiss so that he won’t let out a moan, distracting himself with the taste of Alhaitham instead. He does whimper when Alhaitham pulls back, though, confused by the abruptness of it and desperate to feel more of him.

“Let me hear you,” Alhaitham asks, one hand braced against the mattress and one stroking Kaveh’s cheek. It’s just gentle enough to melt him.

“I wouldn’t have a problem with it if I wasn’t scared the whole floor would hear it.”

“That good, huh?”

“More that I’m that loud.”

“And here I thought I was doing well for you,” Alhaitham teases, the faintest ghost of a pout on his lips.

“Haitham…”

Kaveh surges up to kiss him, locking his leg around his hip to thrust up, letting out the smallest whine at the friction. Alhaitham immediately understands, meeting him halfway where he can as they kiss, gasping into Kaveh’s mouth whenever they meet. Kaveh takes advantage of it to kiss his chin, then his jaw, then lick a lazy strip up his throat, one hand tangled in his hair.

“Ah,” Alhaitham groans, sounding somewhat confused. “That’s very wet.”

“I take it that’s a no in your book.”

“I like it better when you kiss me.”

Kaveh wipes at Alhaitham’s neck with the back of a hand before kissing him there, soft enough that it would be easy to pull back and do something else.

“Harder.”

“You’re bossy,” he says, then gasps at a particularly hard thrust. “And you have an attitude problem.”

“I think you quite like my attitude problem,” Alhaitham says, leaning forward to bite at Kaveh’s neck again, this time a succession of nips that has him on the edge of begging for more.

“Never said I didn’t.” He kisses him right behind the ear, earning a sweet sigh in response. “By the way, if you mark me there, it’ll show. I’m not turtleneck-crazed like you.”

Alhaitham huffs out a laugh into the sensitive skin of his neck.

“You’re encouraging me.”

“I’ll mark you right back.”

“Such a threat.”

Kaveh chuckles, but he’s quick to pull Alhaitham back by the nape of his neck, then tilt it so that he can kiss the very crook of it with a small sound of satisfaction. Soon enough, it turns into tentative sucking, and Alhaitham’s hips tremble against his own as he lets out a long sigh.

“Good?”

“Keep going,” Alhaitham says in lieu of a response, maneuvering them so both his legs are framed by Kaveh’s, their cocks pressing together.

Kaveh moans into his neck as he sucks and bites, determined to leave a perfect little bruise on Alhaitham’s smooth skin. On top of him, Alhaitham moans, too, a sound that immediately registers as his favorite in the entire world.

“That’s good,” Alhaitham whispers, ducking his head to drag his teeth over Kaveh’s jaw. “May I?”

Kaveh hooks another leg around his hips and thrusts up as he throws his head back, offering Alhaitham his neck. “Yeah.”

Alhaitham is much messier about marking Kaveh’s skin, biting and sucking like he’s been starving for it, and it makes him feel like just as much of a mess, all of his feelings laid out for the world to see. He says Alhaitham’s name again, this time like a plea, and feels one last kiss to his marred skin before he’s looking down at him with curious eyes.

“This might be a little too good,” he says, though his legs don’t budge from around Alhaitham’s hips. “If you know what I mean.”

Alhaitham chuckles, then moves playfully against him, wringing a sigh out of the both of them.

“I do,” he finally says, then squeezes Kaveh’s thigh as he guides it back down to the mattress. “Are you leaving my bed?”

Leaving Alhaitham’s bed. What a terrible fate, and yet one he might be just about to meet.

“Oh! I can, yeah. Just wait a second and…”

“I don’t want you to, if that changes anything.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Alhaitham teases, guiding Kaveh’s other leg down with careful hands and a long stroke up to his hipbone. “As long as you’d like to stay, you’re welcome to.”

Kaveh does his best to untangle his feelings from the situation as they make themselves as comfortable as one can be while sharing a single bed, face to face and limbs all over each other’s. Alhaitham himself looks neutral, if not a little tired. He should be neutral, too.

“We need a bigger bed,” Alhaitham declares as he pulls Kaveh closer so his feet don’t dangle from the edge of the mattress.

“We do,” Kaveh says. “You’re surprisingly nonchalant for someone who just had their first kiss.”

“I thought we were making out, actually.”

“Fine, then. Someone who just had their first makeout session.”

“How should I be acting, though?” Alhaitham asks, brows furrowed. “It wasn’t scary. Or too wet. It was just fine.”

“I just thought you might be a little more… embarrassed. I don’t know.”

“I came to terms with my sexual orientation quite a while ago, you know.”

Kaveh chortles.

“No! I mean, that’s good for you. But I was a bit of a mess when I had my first kiss. Not sexuality wise, just… me and the guy-wise. It was weird.”

“This wasn’t weird to me,” Alhaitham says, then kisses him as if to prove his point. “I’ve come to trust you.”

“We got pretty intimate, though.”

Alhaitham leans back just to look Kaveh up and down, then makes a face he can’t quite decipher.

“Are you trying to make me embarrassed?”

“No! I mean. Fuck.” Kaveh hides his own face on their shared pillow. It smells delightfully like Alhaitham. “I’m being weird about it. Forget it.”

“Forget what?” Even though Kaveh can’t see his face, he knows Alhaitham is dismayed. “And for the record, you are weird most of the time.”

Kaveh hides his face on Alhaitham’s chest with a sigh instead of answering. Within a few seconds, Alhaitham is holding him by the waist and pulling him impossibly closer, and he’s so warm that he can’t help thinking of just closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

“Forget what.” Alhaitham’s voice is insistent yet comforting. “Talk to me, Kaveh.”

He makes a sound of dissatisfaction and burrows further into Alhaitham’s chest, nuzzling the supple muscle that presses against his cheek.

“Nothing.”

Alhaitham sighs, then kisses the top of his head. Kaveh could get used to the feeling.

“It’s not nothing.”

Kaveh fully groans into his chest, throwing a leg over his thighs. It’s cozy, but he’d rather not disclose why. He’s a little too scared of what Alhaitham might think.

“You can’t sleep your way out of this one,” Alhaitham says, but his tired voice makes it an empty threat. They’re both about to sleep their way out of it.

“I think I have feelings for you, or something.”

“People often have feelings about the people they interact with, yes.”

“Stop being pedantic!”

“Then start communicating.”

Kaveh waits a beat, then another, but it doesn’t seem that Alhaitham is that relaxed anymore. He wants the soothing feeling of their entangled limbs again, not a tense hand resting just above his waist, as if hesitant to touch him.

“You’re very hot,” he says, but Alhaitham doesn’t relax. “And I have a crush on you. Or more. I don’t know. I’m tired and you’re a cozy pillow.”

Alhaitham’s hand finds his waist as he speaks, then tentatively lifts his shirt to rest a warm hand on his skin.

“I like you, too,” he whispers into Kaveh’s hair. “I’m glad I didn’t misinterpret things.”

“You didn’t,” Kaveh reassures him, though he doesn’t quite know what he had assumed. It’s enough for him that it resulted in this.

For a moment, they’re in silence, Kaveh carding his fingers through Alhaitham’s hair – it’s thick and smooth, with a bit of a wave to it he wouldn’t have noticed without touching it – and Alhaitham playing with the hem of his shirt, seemingly content with just the feeling of cotton and skin under his hand. Soon enough, though, Alhaitham’s breath starts to get heavier and his movement slower, until his hand relaxes and slips from Kaveh’s waist.

“Haitham,” he whispers, careful not to startle him. “Your earplugs. You forgot them.”

Alhaitham jolts a little, then sighs.

“That’s true. Can you get them for me? Bedside table.”

“I know.” Kaveh chuckles to himself as he disentangles himself from Alhaitham to get the small case that holds his sleep earplugs. He gives it to him along with a kiss on the cheek, so chaste it makes his heart race like he’s only just getting his first crush. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“Three times?”

Alhaitham huffs as he adjusts the plugs on his ears, rotating each one delicately into place.

“Come here. Let’s sleep.”

Kaveh lets himself be pulled into his arms, one of them acting as a pillow and the other safely wrapped against his waist. Their legs find each other, too, tangling further until they’re both too tired to move, and he can’t help smiling as he allows himself to drift off to sleep. He has no idea what they might get up to come tomorrow, what with the change in their relationship status from roommates to roommates who kiss and his own catastrophic thoughts, but for now, he feels too comfortable to let those thoughts fester. For once, he likes someone who seems to like him just as much. For once, he’s not worried about what the world might think. For now, this is all he could ask for.