Chapter Text
“Well, I’ve certainly got my work cut out for me,” Faruzan crosses her arms primly as she surveys the mess of stacks and papers semi-organized on Alhaitham’s desk. “You haven’t made much of an attempt to ease the transition, but I suppose I’ll just have to see it as a challenge.”
Alhaitham snorts, clasping his hands and leaning back in his chair.
“Believe what you want to, but this is better than it has been,” he gives a halfhearted retort as he recalls the even more disastrous mess that had been here only a few weeks ago.
“Well, they don’t pay the Grand Sage top mora for nothing, it seems.”
“No, they don’t,” Alhaitham sighs, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. “Unfortunately for you, the contract has already been signed. No take-backs now.”
Faruzan gives a bright laugh before glancing at the clock.
“Don’t you worry, your exit is guaranteed,” she shakes her head before beginning to rummage around in her bag. “By the way-” she hands him a folded piece of paper, “are you planning on attending Kaveh’s final practical interview?”
With a narrowing of his eyes, Alhaitham ambivalently unfolds the paper just enough to confirm that it is indeed a flyer with Kaveh’s name at the top.
“No,” he answers simply as he refolds it and sets it aside. “As I’ve told you before, I’m not on his committee.”
Faruzan rolls her eyes, leaning against his desk as she crosses her arms with a deeply disapproving look that frankly he should have expected.
“Yes, believe it or not, I’m aware of that. Far be it for me to expect that as his-” she gestures vaguely toward Alhaitham, “whatever you are- you’d be interested in such an important milestone.”
Alhaitham rubs his chin for a moment. It’s not like he hasn’t seen the design in passing and even discussed it with Kaveh on occasion. If Kaveh really wanted to, he could walk Alhaitham through the whole thing step by step, but he hasn’t.
“It’s not a lack of interest,” Alhaitham shrugs, needlessly neatening up one of the stacks. “I haven’t been asked to attend.”
“Why must you wait to be asked?” Her tone is as pretentious as ever, as if Alhaitham is a fool for not seeing it her way. “Is it not obvious that you should be there to support your partner?”
Alhaitham clears his throat, hoping that any blush at the terminology is only on his ears and not visible to Faruzan’s sharp eyes.
“I can’t just show up unannounced,” he pushes back, straightening up with nothing left to sort and nowhere left to look but at Faruzan. “It’s a closed interview.”
“For the love of the gods,” Faruzan chuffs, standing up and straightening out her dress. “You’re the Grand Sage for another week even if you’d like to believe you’ve already fulfilled your duties. And if you weren’t Grand Sage, you’d be Grand Scribe. Anyone would be hard pressed to find an argument as to why you shouldn’t be in attendance.”
With nothing left but straw man arguments, and not enough energy to even set them up for Faruzan, Alhaitham leans forward on the desk.
“Why are you being so persistent?” He decides to be direct against his best interests. “I don’t see why it should matter to you whether I attend or not.”
Faruzan looks at him for a long moment with an utterly unreadable expression, half exasperation and half pity and something else that he can’t identify, before she picks up her bag from where it had been unceremoniously dumped in one of the guest chairs.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter to me,” she says, softer this time, like perhaps she’s sorry for him. “But I just think it would be good for you- both of you.”
Despite the confusing origins of her argument, Alhaitham must begrudgingly accept the care that underpins it.
“Fine,” he concedes. “I will consider it.”
Faruzan smiles at him. “That’s all I ask.”
For a long moment, she just looks at him before giving a sharp nod.
“Well,” she waves at him as she takes her leave. “I hope to see you there.”
Alhaitham numbly watches her go, staring at the door long after it has clicked shut behind her.
He breathes out slowly, allowing the fatigue and heaviness to crush him, holding his head in his hands and closing his eyes for a few moments.
As the old grandfather clock chimes on the half hour, vibrating the floor. He opens his eyes, staring down at the dozens of tasks he must complete for which he has absolutely no desire or energy.
Absently, he picks up and unfolds the flier, staring down at it. There’s an image of Kaveh- the one used in his Akademiya profile; up to date, clean, and professional unlike Alhaitham’s which is the same one he was forced to take on his first day as Grand Scribe seven years ago.
He’s smiling, just a little bit. A muted, public smile Alhaitham knows many have seen. Looking at it now makes him feel soft inside at the knowledge that he’s among the few who have had the honor to see the real thing.
Below the date and time, the flier proudly announces: Final Candidate Technical Interview: Kaveh of Kshahrewar- A Study in Belonging.
For a long moment, Alhaitham stares down at it, reading the words over and over again like they’ll change if he does it enough times.
A study in belonging. He imagines the house- the emblem of Kaveh’s future, his magnum opus, as intimate an expression of self as could be. A place for him to belong.
Alhaitham tries not to be bitter. He tries to push away the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach- a strange jealous hurt with no direction to go. No one to be jealous of, no one to blame for the hurt.
Somewhere in his mind, there is an angry whisper that asks why can’t you belong with me? Why is your study of belonging a thesis without my name even mentioned?
It’s foolish- he should say something. Be an adult and speak his thoughts, especially to Kaveh, someone who he cares for and who he knows cares for him in return.
And yet, as much as Alhaitham wants to be thought of, as much as he wishes that Kaveh’s idea of belonging would at least consider him in passing, if Kaveh compromised on his happiness on Alhaitham’s account, he’d never forgive himself.
At the sharp knock on the door, Alhaitham hurriedly folds up the paper just in time for the door to swing open, Kaveh striding through in a burst of reds and golds, two travel coffee mugs that Alhaitham recognizes from home in his hands.
His heart sinks somehow further, pulled down by an intense fondness that tries to insist that this is all he needs.
“Hey-” Kaveh’s eyebrows draw together as he comes closer, his pace slowing as he rounds the desk and hesitantly sets the coffee mugs down. “Are you alright?”
Alhaitham clears his throat, picking up one of the mugs just as an excuse to look away from Kaveh, hoping desperately that the traces of heartache aren’t visible on his face.
“Fine,” he says on an exhale. “Just busy.”
“Oh yeah?” That familiar indignance is clear as day in Kaveh’s voice, almost enough to get Alhaitham’s mouth to twitch up. “Because you look like they just extended your tenure as Grand Sage.”
Alhaitham snorts softly, pretending to shuffle around some papers as he slips the flier in with the stack of things he still needs to get done.
“Wait,” Kaveh stands a little straighter, looking down at Alhaitham. “They didn’t, did they?”
Alhaitham turns in his chair to finally look at him properly, beautiful and glowing in the late afternoon light with an expression like a house on fire.
“No, Kaveh,” Alhaitham nearly cringes at the lovesick tone he can hear so obviously in the syllables of his name. “They’d have to physically tie me down to make me stay, and frankly I don’t think they have it in them to do so.”
Kaveh laughs, overreactive tension falling from his shoulders as he leans against the desk, crossing his legs at the ankle before picking up his own coffee.
“It’s still that bad, is it?” He glances over his shoulder at the admittedly hazardous looking desk surface.
Alhaitham shrugs before recalling that it was indeed the excuse he’d just used for his poor mood. A stronger man would cut the evasion, simply say what he feels, but the thought of it twists in his stomach enough to prevent him.
“It’ll be over soon,” he sighs, settling on telling a truth even if it isn’t the truth Kaveh’s really asking for. “But for now, yes, the workload is not ideal.”
Kaveh presses his lips together, folding inwards a little bit.
“I see,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry if the trip made things worse.”
Alhaitham frowns, looking over the mess before meeting Kaveh’s eyes again.
“It would have been like this no matter what I did, considering the terrible bureaucracy we have to get through to make any kind of changes at all,” he says with a shrug before he softens a little, tapping his finger on the warm ceramic of the mug. “I wouldn't have made a different choice if given the opportunity.”
Kaveh smiles softly as he looks downwards, tapping their feet softly together. Alhaitham doesn’t stop looking at him. He longs to reach out and touch him, touch his cheek, feel the soft brush of his eyelashes across his thumb, but he’s not certain if he’s allowed.
The way Kaveh’s smiling, the way their ankles rest together behind the desk such that anyone walking in couldn’t see it, it all makes him think that perhaps he would be. And yet, since they got back, not a word has been spoken between them about it. Despite the way that the sensation of Kaveh’s mouth on his, their hot skin against each other, the sound of his voice rings in his mind every day, neither of them has brought it up.
Alhaitham clears his throat, taking a sip of the coffee just for something else to occupy him before he stills, mug to his lips.
“What?” Kaveh says almost indignantly. “Is it bad? I swear this time, I-”
Alhaitham isn’t listening as the sensation of perfectly made coffee settles into his body. This whole day, this whole week, he’s been off kilter. Over and over he’s wondered what he needed, what could be done to set him back on his feet.
Of course, one cup of coffee can’t put everything as it should be- not after the events that have been happening- and yet, as he feels the richness of the brew, hard won after years of practice on Kaveh’s account, made perfectly to Alhaitham’s taste, he thinks that this is exactly what he needed.
“It’s good,” he murmurs after a long moment, taking another slow sip. Savoring it. Not just the coffee, but the love that underpins it. He lets it settle in his body. “Almost good enough to excuse the fact that you brought it to me as a procrastination tactic.”
Kaveh gapes at him for a moment before scoffing. “You are such an ass,” he snaps, though it comes out gentler than he must mean for it to. “God forbid I take some time out of my day to bring you something nice.”
The corner of Alhaitham’s mouth twitches as he takes another sip.
“I take it the design is going poorly?”
Kaveh crosses his arms over the chest, pouting out the window.
“It’s going just fine,” he grumbles. “I just have some finishing touches to complete.”
“Oh?” Alhaitham turns to face him fully, “And are you planning on getting them done right here in my office?”
“You’re the one who is always badgering me to take breaks,” Kaveh’s voice rises in that way that has always delighted Alhaitham. “But if you must know, this visit isn’t just for pleasure.”
At the shift of Kaveh’s posture and the minute twitch of his jaw that you wouldn’t see unless you were gazing at Kaveh in the way Alhaitham is, he sits up straighter.
“Alright,” he sets his coffee mug down as Kaveh’s eyes dart to him before returning to the window. “What is it for, then?”
Kaveh’s throat bobs before he pushes off the desk, setting down his coffee as well.
“Listen, I- I feel like I’ve already reached my quota of overstepping, but I looked into this before we went to Fontaine, and frankly I didn’t expect it to pan out,” Kaveh pulls what appears to be a letter out of his pocket, unfolding it and straightening it out for longer than strictly necessary. “But it did, and I thought that if it were me, I’d at least want to be given the option, but at the same time, maybe you don’t feel that way, so-”
“Kaveh,” Alhaitham interrupts him, holding out his hand.
Kaveh deflates with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he hesitantly hands Alhaitham the letter.
Without fanfare, he skims the contents. At first glance, it appears to be nothing special- the header of the letter declares it to be from a realtor named Afsaneh, addressing Kaveh about a recently sold house that it seems Kaveh is interested in visiting before the new owners move in.
With a shrug, Alhaitham gestures vaguely at the letter.
“Is this for a client?”
Kaveh frowns, disentangling his absurdly tightly crossed arms in order to point at the letter. “Look at the address.”
Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, Alhaitham wishes that Kaveh would employ a more direct communication style, especially for things he’s so clearly nervous about, but he simply glances down at the address as directed; 4228 Zaytuuna Avenue.
He frowns down at it for a moment, a whisper of recognition flaring in his mind like the sweet smoke from a lit match before it ignites.
“Kaveh-” he breathes as the shock of what he’s holding hits him.
“Before you say anything,” Kaveh cuts him off, shifting where he stands, arms tightening across his stomach, “I know it was not my right to do this, and I’m sorry.” He speaks fast, like he’s not going to have another chance. “But you were so upset about not remembering what your old house was like, and I thought, maybe, if you could see it-”
Alhaitham has been loved before. His grandmother loved him. His parents did, or so he was told. Even Sadeem- perhaps it wasn’t that she loved him, but she cared about him.
But being loved by Kaveh, it is something else. Kaveh does not love anything quietly. He does not love anything in a way that could be misconstrued as anything other than that.
He brings Alhaitham his heart carved out, still bloody and beating, an act that couldn’t be hidden no matter how he tried- the red stains the paper.
“I can tell Afsaneh that we aren’t going,” Alhaitham registers that Kaveh is still speaking. Has been speaking this whole time, like he’s trying to wipe himself clean, like it isn’t too late.
Alhaitham looks up, meeting his wide eyes, watching as he presses his lips together and swallows.
Many would consider Alhaitham to be someone independent, someone who needs for nothing. And perhaps in many ways, they would be right.
There are not many things in this life that Alhaitham is beholden to, not many things that he would go to his knees and beg for. Not many things that he would consume until he couldn’t consume any longer.
And yet, like in many other ways, Kaveh is an exception. For Kaveh, for his love, for his care, for the sensation of his eyes on him, for the sound of his voice, Alhaitham is hungry. He is starving.
Just like that, the facade of temperance snaps; he stands, takes Kaveh’s face in his hands, and he kisses him.
Kaveh startles at the touch but after only a split second he holds Alhaitham, the tips of his fingers digging into his shoulder and his side, his mouth hot and firm against his, like every point of contact is intended to mark.
It is not a kiss that is meant to be a precursor, it is not something sweet and affectionate, it is something more; it is consumption and desire. It is licking the blood clean from skin, it is tasting the sacrifice of having bled. It is saying I see the love and I will not let a drop go to waste.
Alhaitham’s fingers slide into Kaveh’s hair, holding him close. As close as he can without melding them together.
Kaveh hums at the pressure before they part with a definitive sound, breathing against each other’s mouths like neither of them can stand to go far.
“Is that-'' Kaveh swallows between breaths, eyes closing as his nose brushes against Alhaitham’s cheek. “Is that a good reaction or a bad one?”
Alhaitham huffs as Kaveh tilts his face, pressing a warm kiss to his jaw.
“Shall I kiss you again to be more clear?”
He can feel Kaveh’s smile against his skin before he comes back up to meet his eyes, a seriousness fixed there, visible through the haze.
“You aren’t upset?” His voice is quiet and rough and above all, earnest.
“I’m not,” he feels the adrenaline seeping from him, leaving him heavy. For a long moment, he just holds Kaveh’s eyes, feels the warm skin of his cheeks.
Maybe this is enough, he thinks as he breathes a shaky breath. Maybe I don’t need to consume, perhaps to hold is enough, even if it’s not forever.
But Alhaitham’s mind catches on the thought as it passes- he looks at the expression on Kaveh’s face, the love that’s written all over it like the signing of his name, and it seems out of place. He swallows, glancing down between them at the letter still in his hand, this obvious symbol of care, going above and beyond for no reason other than to make Alhaitham happy, and it seems incongruent as well.
Without thinking, Alhaitham wraps his arms around Kaveh, feeling the way he melts into him like he was made to do so, and he wonders if perhaps these things are not the outliers, but rather the idea that he would do all of them just to leave is the thing that doesn’t fit.
“If I go,” Alhaitham murmurs into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him, “will you be with me?”
Perhaps there would be more dignity in facing it alone. But now, like this, Alhaitham isn’t concerned with dignity.
“Of course,” Kaveh rests a hand at the nape of his neck, leaning into him. “If you want me, I’ll be there.”
Alhaitham breathes out slowly, closing his eyes as he imagines he can feel Kaveh’s heartbeat against his own chest.
“I do,” Alhaitham says, and he means more than the visit but he doesn’t say so. He lets the words catch in his mouth, not having the heart to force them out.