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Al-Haitham never ceased to amaze Kaveh. Whether it be over the ways Al-Haitham could seamlessly push his buttons in a way in which nobody else quite could, or whether it be in the ways that Al-Haitham could effortlessly love him as openly as he does. The latter in particular, was beginning to haunt him.
“Ready to go?” Al-Haitham asked, holding about four empty tote bags in one hand, along with their car and house keys in the other. He uses his toes to slide open the shoe cabinet, slipping on the first pair of sandals his feet could throw down to the floor.
Kaveh sighed, looking over their shopping list for what must’ve been the fifth time, “I just feel like we’re missing something. Something we’ll regret forgetting.” He rakes his palms through his hair in frustration. Eggs, garam masala, chickpeas, flour, tahini, sriracha, tomatoes, electrolyte sachets, an oven cleaner spray, a—
“Kaveh, it’s fine, you’ll figure it out once we arrive. Besides, if it’s that important, I’ll just pick it up on the way back home from work on Monday. Can we go now?” Al-Haitham seals his request with a kiss on Kaveh’s cheek. Kaveh’s stomach bubbles. Like, in a good way.
They’d only been dating for the last month or so, following a confession tumbling out of Al-Haitham’s mouth when Kaveh asked him why he gave a damn over his fucked-up sleep schedule for the eighty-seventh time.
Needless to say, Al-Haitham’s plan ridiculously backfired, as the last thing happening for the rest of that night was sleep. Due to the rather newer nature of their relationship, Kaveh feeling flustered over any affection Al-Haitham displays is rather reasonable if he does say so himself.
“Alright, but if you whine over whatever it is that I’m missing not being there at your earliest convenience tomorrow morning, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Kaveh says, giving in.
Al-Haitham rolls his eyes, “Do you take me for a melodramatic teenager?”
Kaveh smirks, “You’re my melodramatic teenager, babe.”
“That’s a crime, babe,” Al-Haitham says, the corner of his mouth upturned at Kaveh's use of a term of endearment that they most definitely did not use, “If I’m a melodramatic teenager, then you’d be my overtly flamboyant theatre kid. I’m positive that you were exactly that.”
“Now that’s just not true.”
It was true.
Al-Haitham gives him a knowing stare, before swinging the front door open and walking straight out. And, since he was a brat, he made sure to slam the door shut right after. Kaveh rolls his eyes, creaking open the door himself.
Kaveh scoffs, shaking his head, “Chivalry is dead.”
He could practically imagine the shit-eating grin Al-Haitham must’ve sported at the comment.
“Let’s go,” Was all Al-Haitham groans, bordering at his best approximation of a whine, lacing his fingers with Kaveh’s before striding off to the elevator.
They made it down to their tiny red convertible before Kaveh asked, “So who’s driving?”
Al-Haitham smirks, “Well, since you offered…” He thrusts their car keys into Kaveh’s unfortunately out-stretched palm, eliciting a delayed yelp from the older.
“I didn’t offer shit!” Kaveh seethes. Al-Haitham simply shrugs in response, flashing Kaveh another one of his signature your-misery-is-the-source-of-my-pleasure sort of grin, before sauntering over to the passenger seat.
“Chivalry is dead,” Kaveh repeats dully, as he miserably pulls on the driver’s-seat handle. He slides into the seat, offering Al-Haitham a glare. Al-Haitham shakes his head.
“Actually senior, I’d say you’re being pretty chivalrous to me right now, wouldn’t you agree? I’m grateful, of course.”
“You little shit .”
“The Bazaar, Kaveh.”
“I’ll Bazaar your face.”
“What.”
Kaveh doesn’t bother deigning his nonsensical insult with a rebuttal, opting to start the car aggressively instead. Al-Haitham chuckles, switching on the radio, before his nose scrunches in disgust at the obnoxious noise of static permeating throughout the car.
Kaveh quickly turns the dial down, much to Al-Haitham’s relief. The pair opt to bicker about and talk about their respective weeks at work instead. They were but a fifteen-minute drive away from the Grand Bazaar after all.
“Freshly ground chilli powder! Get it before it’s gone!”
“Coffee! Roasted or Instant! Arabica and Robusta! Twenty per cent off with your second order!”
“Limited edition beetroot hummus!”
Kaveh sighed, massaging his temple, “Why did we decide to come here on a Saturday again?”
The Grand Bazaar was positively bustling, filled to the brim with stalls and customers alike, each customer racing towards the next seller’s hollering over a sale or restock. Saturdays, while probably fantastic for the Bazaar’s profits, were not great for Kaveh’s mental profit.
Al-Haitham seemingly anticipated the crowd and slipped on his noise-cancelling headphones the second they had left the parking lot. He lazily smiles at Kaveh.
“You decided it jaan, after you decided your client’s twentieth proposal was worth more than a peaceful night of shopping.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Kaveh says, resigned. He grasps at Al-Haitham’s wrist, before before tugging him towards the first stall he needed to tick off in his mental list.
Garam Masala? Check.
Eggs? Check.
Kaveh’s headache meds? Checked and swallowed.
Rice—
“Aunty, one kilogram of basmati, please,” Al-Haitham says, pointing at the massive sack of basmati rice. Kaveh analyses the attached sign.
“It’s parboiled. We need the raw kind, your stomach can’t take parboiled rice.” He murmurs, gently nudging Al-Haitham’s hand in the direction of the parboiled basmati sack. Al-Haitham’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before they return to their regular stasis.
“Right.”
The rice-selling-aunty smiles in their direction, scooping the rice into a bag before placing it on her weighing scale, “Aren’t you two cute?”
“We are,” Al-Haitham says, nodding seriously. Kaveh flushes.
“Shameless,” He mutters, before fixing a kind smile at the rice-aunty, “Thank you, aunty.”
“It’s no problem dear.”
“Dates.” Al-Haitham blurts, suddenly. Once they’re out of earshot from the stall, of course.
“Huh?”
Al-Haitham tilts his head towards the date stall, before dragging the two of them there.
Kaveh splutters, “Haitham! That wasn’t in the— fine .”
They make their way to the front, after pushing through some excited kids fighting over the limited boxes of pre-packaged chocolate-covered dates. Al-Haitham pauses, his eyes raking over the selection. Kaveh stared at the display case, trying to see whatever Al-Haitham was seeing within the varied assortment.
“I’ll take six pistachio-filled khidri dates and three caramelised macadamia kholas dates,” Al-Haitham instructs. Kaveh balks, those were expensive. The uncle at the stand flashes him a toothy grin.
“Getting them for a sweetheart boy?”
“Mm, for my boyfriend. He loves nut fillings with his dates, he goes mad over caramelised ones.” Al-Haitham replies as if Kaveh wasn’t standing right fucking there.
He feels heat light up his face, his stomach gurgling intensely.
“You’re insane.” He whispers, unable to meet Al-Haitham’s gaze. Luckily, it goes unheard amidst the shrieks and general buzz within their vicinity.
The dates-uncle laughs, “Your boyfriend has good taste! That’ll be five thousand mora, sir.”
Al-Haitham wordlessly hands over the cash, before finally meeting a very flustered Kaveh’s face. He raises an eyebrow.
“What?” He asks, with a frustratingly adorable head tilt.
“You— let’s just go home.” Kaveh manages, desperately managing to satiate the urge to pull Al-Haitham into a violent kiss. Al-Haitham knits his eyebrows together.
“Didn’t you say you forgot something on your list?”
“Doesn’t matter. Home. Now .” Kaveh urges, sending Al-Haitham his most desperate look. Al-Haitham, finally catching on, squeezes Kaveh’s palms before leading the way out of the venue.
“Coffee! Last chance to get Saturday’s fresh roast!”
Al-Haitham winces, “Yeah, the sooner we get out, the better.”
𓇢𓆸
The realization had hit Kaveh first, as he blearily walked towards their spice cabinet. His hands automatically reached for their coffee spot, only for it to come right out holding an empty jar. He stared, blinking at the jar, his brain desperately trying to process whatever he was looking at, before it hit him. He fell to the floor on his knees.
Coffee.
They forgot the coffee.
Al-Haitham seemingly walked in about a few seconds later, his hair completely and utterly unruly, with remnants of fading marks adorning his shoulder. He stares at Kaveh, and doesn’t say a word, simply opting to raise a tired eyebrow instead. Kaveh lets out a noise akin to that of a beluga whale.
“Haitham…coffee.”
Al-Haitham finally spares a glance at the empty jar held desperately between the palm of Kaveh’s left hand. Ah, it was empty.
Al-Haiitham falls to the floor on his knees, right next to Kaveh.
“How could we forget?” He says, miserably, his voice gravelly from disuse.
“We were too fucking horny!” Kaveh cries, sinking his face into his palms.
“And whose fault is that?” Al-Haitham hisses, his eyes still stuck on the empty jar. His fault? Maybe if Al-Haitham weren’t such a perfect boyfriend then we wouldn’t have gotten the urge to ruin him in the first place!
“Well maybe if you didn’t—”
The sound of Khahrewar’s theme song floated through the living room at that moment. Both men groaned in annoyance.
“Your phone.” Al-Haitham murmurs, pushing himself up before offering a hand to Kaveh.
“I know it’s my phone jackass,” Kaveh grumbles, grasping said offered hand to lift himself upright. He turns towards the living room, muttering incoherently all the way. As he got to his phone, he flipped it screen-side up to check the caller’s ID.
Tighnari.
Kaveh picks up the phone.
“What.”
“Jeez, what’s got your peonies all up in a bunch?” Tighnari’s voice rang through Kaveh’s ears.
“We ran out of coffee.”
“Oh!”
“Oh.”
“No further explanation necessary then, I guess. Anyway, I hope you didn’t forget about brunch today. At our place?”
Kaveh definitely forgot.
“Of course I didn’t, who do you take me for?” He says, awkwardly laughing at the tail end of his sentence. He could practically feel Tighanri’s eyes narrow from across the line.
“Sure, I’ll believe you. Get here by ten or Collei’ll finish all the pita pockets.”
“Will there be coffee?” Kaveh blurts before Tighnari has a chance to cut the call. Tighnari makes an amused noise.
“Of course! Who do you take me for?” He mocks, before promptly hanging up.
“Who was that?” Al-Haitham asks, groggily wiping at his eyes. Kaveh shakes his head in annoyance, grasping Al–Haitham’s palms.
“Don’t do that,” He chides, glaring at the other man, who simply shrugged in response, “It was Tighnari. We need to get to brunch in about an hour or so.”
Al-Haitham closes his eyes, “Do we have to?”
“He said they’d have coffee,” Kaveh says. Al-Haitham pauses to consider, before he nods, walking off to the bathroom.
“I’ll shower first.”
“Bastard.” That was really all that Kaveh could say.
The drive to Gandharva Ville was certainly longer than the one to the Grand Bazaar, and as such, Kaveh practically ran to the passenger seat, relishing in the dramatic sigh Al-Haitham let out as he slipped into the driver’s seat.
“Can you make it there in thirty minutes? Collei’s going to finish the pita pockets if we don’t make it in time.” Kaveh urges, his eyes darting towards every sign, trying to find some sort of hidden shortcut that Barbatos Maps somehow couldn’t.
“If you’re so concerned about finding the displacement to Ghandarva Ville, maybe you should’ve taken the wheel.” Al-Haitham drawls, taking a sharp right.
“And let you miss out on your sorely needed driving practice? I’m just being a caring partner.” Kaveh reasons, ignoring Al-Haitham throwing him a weak glare.
After twenty-eight minutes, they pulled up in front of Tighnari’s bungalow. Kaveh knocks on the door as Al-Haitham fishes through their large tote bag, looking for the food they bought on the way.
Tighnari swings the door open, “Well, you made it, two minutes before ten.”
“Collei better not have finished those pita pockets,” Kaveh laughs, somewhat apologetically.
“You’re lucky, she preferred the fatayer, she took about ten of them to her room and locked herself in there. I think she’s on a call with Amber.”
Kaveh raises an eyebrow. Tighnari puts a hand up in understanding, “Her pen pal, from Mondstadt.”
“Ah.”
Al-Haitham finally pulls out a large Tupperware box, “We brought some manakeesh .”
Tighnari’s eyes widen, his ears perking up, “Cheese or za’atar?”
Kaveh smirks, “A half-and-half. We bought like, five of them”
“A half-and-half. Good, as it should be.” Tighnari gestures for the two of them to come in, as they leave their shoes at the doorway.
Cyno was already sitting at the dining table, digging into one of the pita pockets. Kaveh gapes at him, “That’s not very gentlemanly of you.”
Cyno raises a singular brow, before going back to his pocket. Tighnari levels Kaveh with a look,
“Well maybe if you’d arrived a little earlier, Cyno wouldn’t have started already.” He snarks, as he piles one of each item on the table onto Al-Haitham and Kaveh’s plates respectively.
Al-Haitham clears his throat, “I was told there would be coffee.”
“Oh for Kusanali’s sake. Have some decorum, we just got here.” Kaveh groans.
Al-Haitham frowns, “I literally only came here for the coffee.”
“And we are so grateful,” Tighnari says, rolling his eyes. Nevertheless, he carefully places a copper jug and matching glass in front of the aforementioned shameless being that of whom is Kaveh’s boyfriend.
Al-Haitham immediately pours the now lukewarm coffee– beggars can't be choosers– into his and Kaveh’s glass. He raises the cup to his lips, taking a large gulp, before sighing in relief. Kaveh quickly follows, and gods does he finally feel alive again.
“I love you.” Kaveh murmurs, to the coffee. To the lukewarm, kind of burnt, watered-down coffee.
Tighnari’s shit at making coffee. He loves this coffee.
Al-Haitham seemed to agree, downing the coffee in a singular gulp, akin to taking a shot. He quickly moves to pour another, before Kaveh stops him.
“You’ve had enough to wake you up, we’ll get more coffee on the way home.” He says, placidly placing his palm over Al-Haitham’s. The younger man grunts, reluctantly putting the jug away. He instead opts to pick up a piece of the manakeesh he brought.
The conversations then pick up from that moment, with the four men talking about nearly every topic under the sun. Collei’s studies, Cyno’s half-brother who just moved into town, academic debates, politics, what food they should’ve brought, and whatever to bring the next time around. Eventually, the conversation shifts to work. More specifically, the Akademiya, where Cyno and Al-Haitham worked.
“Y’know Al-Haitham, I’m surprised that you didn’t bring your lanyard in with you,” Cyno says, with the slightest of a grin. Tighnari chokes on his falafel, while Al-Haitham raises an eyebrow.
“I wasn’t aware of your abode turning into an out-of-state branch. Nor was I aware of us having to come in on Sundays. Pray tell, why would I possibly bring in my work lanyard?” Al-Haitham questions, his eyebrow rising even farther up his forehead.
Kaveh sighs, “Really, you don't have to sound so frustratingly sarcastic.”
“Well, I only ask because it seemed quite treasured to you, you wouldn’t stop staring at it all month, infatuated, as some would call it.” Cyno continues, his grin growing wider. Al-Haitham briefly contemplates what Cyno says, before, shockingly,
Al-Haitham’s ears turn red.
Kaveh gapes, “Are you embarrassed right now?”
Al-Haitham glares at Cyno, choosing to ignore Kaveh, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Cyno smirks, “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Cy, leave the poor man be,” TIghnari says. Well– more like laughs.
Kaveh shakes his head, “I don’t get it, what are we all laughing about exactly? What’s so crazy about his lanyard?”
“Are you aware of how high school girls put in photocards of Inazuman idols at the back of their school lanyards?” Tighnari suggests, relishing in Al-Haitham’s disgruntled noise in protest.
Kaveh frowns, “Yes, I believe Collei had one of that– Ayaka girl, right?”
“Kamisato Ayaka yeah, her favourite.” Tighnari nods.
“Are you aware of TCG cards being based on our mythos?” Cyno asks. Kaveh blinks,
“By that, do you mean like— fantastical versions of famous people?” He questions. Cyno lets out a grunt that sort of sounded like a, ‘ somewhat’.
“Famous, influential, whatever you want to call it. It basically likens them to ancient historical figures. It’s fascinating.”
“It’s really weird is what it is. Like, imagine if you were caricatured as an Archon.” Tighnari snorts, taking out rose pudding from the refrigerator.
Cyno’s eyebrows knit together, “The team puts in a lot of research before deciding what character to liken each figure to. Some say that it may have been that individual in a past life.”
Tighnari hums, “I mean, you being General Mahamatra isn’t very far off from being the Akademiya force’s general, neither is Al-Haitham being a Scribe as the Akademiya’s archivist. I suppose it has some merit.”
“Anyway, Kaveh, yours was after that famous architect back then, remember?”
Kaveh blinks.
Tighnari sighs.
“Cyno requested his friend on the team to design it.” Tighnari reminds him.
Kaveh’s eyes brighten, “Ah, right! Sorry, it slipped my mind.”
“Right, that’s not the point. To get back to the topic, Al-Haitham here sticks your TCG card to the other end of his lanyard. I guess you could call him your biggest fan.” Cyno says, with the utmost serious expression, although he was failing quite miserably.
Kaveh’s head swivels towards a man who seems to currently take a great interest in the mauve rug underneath them, “What the fuck? Is that why my card’s been missing?”
“That’s your concern?” Tighnari groans, “He literally puts your fantasy game card on the back of his lanyard. Collei. High school girls. Idols?”
The gears in Kaveh’s head turn.
“What game are you playing at, junior?” Kaveh accuses, narrowing his eyes at Al-Haitham, who gives him a shrug in response.
“It’s good craftsmanship.”
“Then why don’t you put in your own?”
“Kaveh, I should note that Al-Haitham often stares at the back of his lanyard with what must practically be heart eyes by his standards. Sometimes, I also—”
“Cyno.” Al-Haitham pleads,
“ —hear him sigh.” Cyno finishes, ignoring Al-Haitham’s plight completely.
Kaveh feels himself blank at the thought of Al-Haitham swooning over a two-dimensional fictional version of himself while working.
“Is-is that why you took the card? To pathetically moon away at it?!” Kaveh repeats, shooting Al-Haitham an accusatory glare.
The table grows piercingly silent, with all three men gaping at Kaveh.
“Is that seriously all you care about here?” Tighnari splutters.
“The fuck do you want me to say? ‘Oh Al-Haitham, why are you embarrassingly obsessed with me?’ I already know he’s embarrassing, this is just a new low.” Kaveh laments, his eyes fixed on Al-Haitham the entire time, fixing him with a critical stare. Al-Haitham still refuses to meet the older’s eyes, his neck now flaming red. It wasn’t often that Kaveh got to witness a flustered version of Al-Haitham outside the house.
“I guess it’s pretty cute or whatever,” He admits, squeezing their palms together. Al-Haitham smiles back at him, softly.
Cyno clears his throat, “I wanted to enjoy witnessing this state of Al-Haitham a little longer, but I suppose this will suffice. He really is sickeningly in love with you, Kaveh.”
Kaveh feels himself grow warm. Well, that would make sense, wouldn’t it? He’s Al-Haitham’s significant other, and vice versa. Perfectly natural to love them, he’d think. Maybe a little more than natural to stare at a 2D version of him in longing.
“I have to say Kaveh, I do wonder why you haven’t done the same with mine. Perhaps, I’m simply the more loving boyfriend?” Al-Haitham muses, a smirk playing on his lips. Seems all traces of his pathetic-ness had been wiped clean.
“Sorry I don’t have the mental capacity of a parasocially-obsessed teenager Haitham, I’ll work on it.” Kaveh snips, offering a shaky grin of his own in recompense. Truth be told, the comment left him feeling wary. Was he truly not as openly affectionate? He felt the grin dissolve as he mulled over these thoughts.
Al-Haitham nudges Kaveh with his knee, offering him a questioning glance. So attentive, so caring. Kaveh shakes his head slightly, signaling a, ‘Don’t worry about it’. Al-Haitham gave him a look that absolutely meant he was going to worry about it.
Tighnari lets out a food coma-induced sigh, “Well, that was a great spread guys. Same time next week?”
The others nod, before exchanging farewells and tin-foil-packed leftovers for Al-Haitham and Kaveh to take home. Before they knew it, they found themselves back in the car, Kaveh taking the steering wheel, much to his dismay.
“Seriously Al-Haitham? Commit to the round-way trip.” Kaveh grumbles, sticking their key into the start-up slot. Al-Haitham decides to ignore the older, opting to flick between radio stations instead, before landing on Akasha FM, which was currently blasting out whatever obnoxiously loud bubble-gum pop artist’s handler paid the station to stream.
It takes about twenty minutes before Al-Haitham decides to speak up, “You didn’t take what I said seriously, did you?”
Far too perceptive.
“No, I didn’t,” Kaveh replies, carefully. Al-Haitham narrowed his eyes like he didn’t really believe him.
“I know you love me,” He says, suddenly. Kaveh startles, jerking the car slightly, “Where did that come from?”
Al-Haitham scratches the back of his neck, “Just, in case you needed to hear that. I don’t know, giving you words of validation or something like that,”
“You sound like a self-help book.”
“Thanks.”
Kaveh hadn’t even considered the fact that Al-Haitham may have thought he didn’t love him, not until now at least.
Al-Haitham should not write self-help books.
𓇢𓆸
Late nights at Al-Haitham and Kaveh’s home typically consisted of mulled wine, assorted baklava, fruits, and coffee. Gossip over the Akademiya, Kaveh’s ridiculous clients, and whatever the kids were into these days. What it didn’t typically consist of, however, were guests. It wasn’t really every day that happened to be a get-together party sort of day either.
“Does he get himself this drunk every time he’s home–?” Nilou questions, with a worried look sent in Kaveh’s direction.
“No, not usually. Nothing about today is supposed to be usual though.” Kaveh notes, fondly ruffling the currently passed-out archivist, who unconsciously nuzzled into his shoulder. Faruzan coo-ed.
“My Kaveh, I really didn't believe you when you called him adorable, but I see it now!” She exclaims, staring at Al-Haitham in wonder, almost as if he were a new mechanism for her to pick apart and analyse.
Tighnari snorts, “He’s always like this around Kaveh, lack of sobriety be damned.”
“It’s interesting though, I would’ve thought it’d be the other way around,” Dehya muses, swirling her goblet of red wine. Kaveh gives her a questioning glance,
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way or anything Kaveh, but with the way you rant on and on about Al-Haitham, I definitely thought you’d be more sappy about him after you two finally hooked up,” Dehya says, before popping a baklava into her mouth, “But like, he ended up being way more obvious about it. You’re pretty subtle actually.”
The others nod intelligibly. Kaveh stares, “Do I– do I not look like I love him?”
Dehya’s eyes widen, “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all! Kusanali above, of course, you took it the wrong way. Listen, just because you aren't as overt, doesn’t mean you don’t love him. If you didn’t, well I’d probably pummel you to Ancient Teyvat.” She laughs.
Kaveh frowns, ignoring the not-so-vague threat. Reminders of the last week came to the forefront of his thoughts. He looks at the inebriated man beside him, humming softly in his slumber. He’d probably be more honest if I were to ask him now…
Kaveh claps his hands, before wincing as he realised he’d startled Al-Haitham awake. Well, too late now. “Party’s over everyone, get out before one of you ruins my newly furnished bathroom.”
Everyone clumsily makes their way out of their house, yelling out their gratitude to Kaveh and Al-Haitham for hosting. Once Kaveh finally shuts the door, Al-Haitham scrunches his nose,
“There was a party?” Al-Haitham groggily slurs out. Kaveh’s eyes crinkle with mirth, “Nevermind that, go back to sleep, love.”
Al-Haitham shakes his head, frowning, “No, I’ll help you clean up.”
Kaveh giggles, “No you won't, you’ll just make it worse at that state. We’ll clean up tomorrow, I’m feeling a little too tipsy to clean up myself.”
Al-Haitham seemed to be satisfied with that answer, hooking his arm with Kaveh’s before trying his best to walk at a normal pace to their bedroom, not without bumping into a few walls on the way. They made it to the bed, except Al-Haitham didn’t because Kaveh ended up carrying the man. He unceremoniously dropped the younger man onto the mattress, wheezing.
“Gods, why the fuck did you drink like— like I would’ve?” Kaveh bemoans, in between taking large gulpfuls of air. Man, he really needed to get back to the gym.
“There wasn’t any coffee, thanks to someone.” Al-Haitham pouts, giving Kaveh an accusatory glare.
Kaveh raises his palms, “Hey! What did I say about not blaming me if we forgot it?”
“I never agreed to that.”
“You—”
“You don’t call me that in front of the others.” Al-Haitham suddenly interrupts, his eyes flitting towards the ceiling, adorned with curved patterns.
Kaveh blanks, confused, “I don’t call you what?”
“Love.”
“Love?”
“Yeah, you said it remember? After they all left.”
Kaveh scrunches his brows, trying to recall, before it hit him. “Ah, yeah, I did. What about it?”
Al-Haitham rolls his eyes, “I just told you.”
“Remind me.”
“It’s just that you don’t— you never call me those kinds of things unless it’s just us.”
Kaveh blinks rapidly, “Seriously? I don’t?”
Al-Haitham shook his head.
Huh. Kaveh didn’t really realise he did that. Why did he do that? How did Al-Haitham notice? He supposes it’s because of the fact that he’d hidden his roommate's situation for so long, he just felt naturally accustomed to hiding the more intimate parts of their life.
“I didn’t realise you paid attention to that sort of thing Haitham,” Kaveh admits, sheepishly. Al-Haitham flushes red.
“I mean I don’t care, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Then why did you mention it in the first place?”
“No reason.” Al-Haitham nervously laughs. Kaveh felt his blood run cold. Al-Haitham never did this. He never covered up a lie this poorly, he had never spared his feelings like this since they’d gotten together. Unless…
“Have you been wanting this? The whole time? Wanting me to say something?” Kaveh asks, urgently. Al-Haitham looks to his side, still refusing to meet Kaveh’s gaze, yet he nods silently.
“I understand that you may still be uncomfortable with me, and I’m willing to wait, of course, I just— I think it would be nice. I don’t want to rush you though.”
“Uncomfortable? With you? Is that what you think?” Kaveh felt anger rising up his throat. Not at Al-Haitham, but at himself. How could he ever make Al-Haitham believe that he was ever the problem? That the problem wasn’t just Kaveh being, ironically, ridiculously inept at romantic actions?
The only response he received was in the form of quiet snores. Kaveh huffs, “Only you would sleep right after being vulnerable.”
Alright then, If that was what Al-Haitham was going to think, then in true Kaveh fashion, he’d have to prove Al-Haitham ridiculously wrong. (One would debate whether it would naturally be the other way wrong, but that One is currently fast asleep.)
He loved the man, and unlike their coffee beans, he was going to make sure nobody forgets it.
𓇢𓆸
When they weren’t regularly littering Puspa’s Cafe with philosophical debates, Al-Haitham and Kaveh regularly sat down for a cup of tea together, lamenting over their long weeks. Indulging in the sweet Fontainian vanilla blend that the Cafe always managed to brew just right.
“I did try to tell him, as you so insistently advised, but he decided not to heed my words. It seems he’s doomed to permanent rejection for his proposal.” Al-Haitham says, recalling the day he had at the Akademiya. At Kaveh’s request, he’d actually tried to help out a co-worker today, proofreading the proposal he was sending to the CFO, and letting him know that there were virtually no grounds in which they would ever accept.
Kaveh narrows his eyes, “What exactly did you tell him?”
“I said, ‘Your proposal has a zero point one per cent chance of being anything other than rejected. The point one is if you happen to be so lucky as to catch the CFO having an affair and gain blackmail material.’ I believe it was quite clear.”
“Dear god Haitham, who in the world would ever take your advice sincerely if you follow up with that,” Kaveh groans, letting his head fall to his outstretched palms.
“A normal person.”
“Your definition of normal, is abnormal.”
Al-Haitham snorts, as he waves the waitress over towards them. The waitress makes her way to the pair, giving them a bright, customer service quality-level smile.
“What can I get you two?”
“Two Fontanian Vanillas.”
“And how sweet would you like those?”
“As sweet as my beloved,” Kaveh winks, watching as Al-Haitham’s eyes widen, his brows jumping beneath his bangs, jaw slacked. The waitress gives him a strained smile, “I— I don’t think I’d be able to tell.”
Way to ruin the moment.
“Extra sugar.” Kaveh relents, sighing. She nods, before glancing at Al-Haitham.
“No sugar.” Al-Haitham manages, his voice coming out in a bare-boned croak. The waitress nodded yet again, sighing in relief as she walked away.
Kaveh raises a brow, “You hate your coffee with no sugar.”
“You hate it with sugar.”
“Ah.”
“What was that, by the way?” Al-Haitham manages, giving Kaveh an incredulous look.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Kaveh says. Al-Haitham analyses Kaveh briefly.
“What did I say that night? When I was drunk.”
“What are you talking about?” Kaveh asks, feigning ignorance.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Since then, you’ve been so, flirty. ” Al-Haitham shudders.
Kaveh sulks, “What’s wrong with that?”
“You don’t flirt.” Al-Haitham deadpans.
“What if I want to start?”
“No, you don’t.”
“How would you know?!”
“Kaveh.” Al-Haitham pleads, “What’s wrong?”
Kaveh looks at Al-Haitham, perturbed. “Al-Haitham, is it so wrong of me to want to make you feel special? Loved?”
Al-Haitham lets out a confused noise, “Why would you need to do that?”
“Because I love you, and I don’t want to be the only person holding that information.” Kaveh blurts, before slapping a palm over his mouth.
Al-Haitham isn’t one to fluster, Kaveh’s ridiculous attempts at flirting have proven that point blank. However, when he did, it was always a treat for sore eyes. Red crept up his neck and face in an almost violent fashion. The waitress, with what had to be the worst possible timing, walked up to them with two cups and saucers at that moment.
“Your Fontanian Vanillas sirs,” She mutters, quickly placing the steaming cups on their table before bolting. Kaveh swapped the cups the moment they came, before grasping at his cup’s handle and taking a sip of the searing hot liquid to distract himself from what he just said.
Al-Haitham however, remained frozen. “You— you said it first.”
“I suppose I did.” Kaveh hums, feigning nonchalance. His shaky tea cup proved otherwise.
“What did I say, when I was drunk?” Al-Haitham repeats, urgently. Kaveh sighs.
“You told me you felt like my affections weren’t very- noticeable, for lack of a better term. I couldn’t stop thinking about it after that day. Haitham, I love you, and I’m not afraid of saying it anymore. I don’t know if I’m moving too fast or whatever, but I don’t care. You should know that the last thing in this damned world that I would ever be ashamed of would be you.” Kaveh says, determined,
“And I know I haven’t been great at showing it, especially to other people, but I’m trying to change. I’ve been so used to my pride, that it’s difficult to remind myself that there’s no need to preserve it anymore. It might take me a while, but I hope you realise that—”
“I love you too.” Al-Haitham interrupts, his face breaking out into a broad grin.
“Will you let me finish my monologue at least?” Kaveh snaps, but damn it, he’s smiling too.
“No, I won’t. Because you’re insane, and I love you, and you need to know that. You can take your time Kaveh, I truly do not mind. It relieves me to know that it wasn't a conscious action on your end, and I’ll be here with you, on that journey to yourself, every step of the way,” Al-Haitham says, before rushing to add, “If you’ll have me, of course.”
Kaveh smiles even wider, interlocking their fingers across the table, “I don’t like sweet coffee.” He admits, softly.
Al-Haitham looks at him, bewildered.
“I asked the waitress for something as ‘sweet as my beloved’. Truth is, I lied. If it were as sweet as you, it wouldn’t be very sweet, it’d be the complete opposite. Not a single drop of sugar, but filled with creamer, essence, and a roasted brew. Rational, patient, invigorating, lovely.
That is to say, I don’t like my coffee with sugar, and I don’t think I ever will.”
Al-Haitham chuckles, his eyes glittering, “Look at you, one would wonder who the Haravatat here really is with that metaphor.”
“Yeah, you could probably learn a thing or two from me, junior.”
“I always do.”