Chapter Text
As though he chose to wear out his voice so he wouldn’t have to speak throughout his childhood, Alhaitham came into the world a loudly wailing baby, so loud one of the midwives nearly dropped a basin of clean water. He cried and reached for milk, determined to live and drink and stay alive.
The midwives cleaned him and found his heart unbeating, though his lungs breathed life into him. They left as soon as they were able.
Alhaitham grew up with a heart sitting silently in his chest, quiet and unbeating and useless. He grew up alone with whispers of the cursed boy whose heart did not beat, whose face did not flush, whose hands stayed cold. When his parents died, they whispered that he curse got them and that one day it would take everyone.
His grandmother settled a pair of headphones in his head, blocking the noise. It was her first gift for him. The second gift was when they spent so much time learning to speak with their hands and showing that they cared about each other through actions rather than words.
“Your heart may not beat, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less than I am, or that you don’t care for me,” Grandmother said, both through her hands and her lips, in the rare moment when he decided to take off the headphones to let the sounds in. “I love you no matter what, Alhaitham. I hope you know that.”
Alhaitham would take her hands and spoke, as clearly as he could so Grandmother’s failing hearing could catch each word, “I know. I love you too.”
Grandmother’s smile was wide, pulling at her wrinkled cheeks. “Never let their words get to you, my boy. You’re the best grandson I could ever ask for. The nicest boy I’ve ever known.”
Alhaitham’s lips would pull into a small smile. “What about Dad?” he asked, knowing exactly what Grandmother would answer with.
“Pah! The things he got into in his youth would have driven me to an early grave if my heart had been any weaker!” Grandmother squeezed his hands. “Choose wisely, but do try to make friends, alright? Your father didn’t bother, not really. The day he brought your mother home, I thought he’d paid her!”
It was a joke Grandmother loved to tell. His father had been a loving husband to his mother, but the jump from never having friends over to bringing a girl home had been shocking to Grandmother. Sometimes, Alhaitham would wonder if his unbeating heart would mean he would have the capacity to love another the same way his father hand loved his mother, and each time he moved to help Grandmother out of his own will he reminded himself that he cared, even with a heart that did not beat, even with feelings muted behind a wall of glass that he could only observe away from instead of taking them into his hands to feel them with his whole being.
The night Grandmother finally died, Alhaitham would sit in his empty house devoid of Grandmother’s filling warmth, ringing with deafening silence, and wondered if she had taken with her his ability to ever care for anyone ever again.
Kaveh came into the world with a quiet gasp and a soft cry. The midwives would clean and bring him to his mother’s breasts to drink, look her in the eyes, and say, “Your son lives, but his heart does not beat.”
They spent as much time trying to calm the confused mother as they did trying to care for a baby that made them shudder in dread. What matter of a child would live with a heart that did not beat? They left as soon as they were able, all but fleeing the house with whispers of a cursed child.
Kaveh’s father would hold his mother and Kaveh, still suckling at her breast, and tell her, “It doesn’t matter that his heart doesn’t beat. He lives, and he’s our son, and we will raise him no differently than we would any other child.” And Faranak, still shaken from the knowledge that Kaveh’s heart stayed still within his chest, would agree.
Kaveh would grow under their careful guidance, under their loving smile, and flourished. When they realized that Kaveh struggled to express his feelings because they were muted and removed away from him, they would smile and and point at themselves and say, “Just follow our leads, Kaveh!”
And so Kaveh would follow their footsteps to learn what was an appropriate response to each and any interaction he would have. A smile, to accompany a greeting. An apology, when he did something wrong and felt the distant pang of guilt in his chest. A thank you, a please, each taught with a script and their possible deviations so Kaveh would know what to say, to do, to respond with when he eventually walk out to the world on his own feet.
“The world is beautiful, but it can be cruel when it wants to be,” his mother would tell Kaveh. “Keep your unbeating heart a secret, so no one will treat you differently.”
Kaveh learned to live as a mirror of others’ feelings and a chameleon trying to blend with the environment, to hide the fact that his heart was still in his chest. He perfected the art of matching his peer’s laughter, watching what made them smile and what made them pout, and slotting himself in the confines of normality perfectly. He was smart and observant, and soon he was the pretty blond boy, the perfect child who could do no wrong, the kid everyone liked.
One day, his classmates talked, and Kaveh brought it home with him. “Dad, will you join the Interdarshan Championship?” he asked.
His father hummed in thought. “I have been wondering if I should. What do you think?”
Kaveh thought of how his classmates chattered about the championship, about which Darshan was the best, about whose representative would win. “My classmates think it’ll be cool if they can join.”
A laughter, loud and short and crisp. “Is that so? Well, what do you think?”
After a moment of thought, Kaveh decided, “I think it’s cool if my dad is the Interdarshan champion!”
His mother, who had been listening without joining, let out a snicker. “Well, if Kaveh thinks it’s cool, then it must be incredible to win the championship, no?”
His father let out a sigh that Kaveh had since learned to be playful, faux-tired. A mask, playing pretend to resigning to fate while fully hurtling himself into it. “Then I guess I have no choice. I’ll win the championship for you, Kaveh, just you wait!”
Father did not win. He gave a smile that did not reach his eyes and left for the desert, and never returned. Mother was devastated at the news, falling into a depressive mood.
Kaveh had learned to be a mirror, the perfect social chameleon. He could read the room and quickly matched what was expected, showing expressions and giving responses that people would want to get. For the first time in his life, he realized he couldn’t match Mother’s mood.
Instead he learned to smile and try to keep up the good spirit, hoping to lift Mother’s spirits while crushing the seeds of grief and guilt within his chest. Their house was no longer a home without Father here, but they were still here, and Kaveh longed for the warmth that he knew he would never feel again.
When Mother finally caved and told Kaveh she wanted to move to Fontaine, the year he enrolled into Akademiya, Kaveh put on his well-practiced smile and told her he would support her decision no matter what.
Mother would cup his face in her hands. “Kaveh… are you sure? I’d understand if you’re upset.”
Was Kaveh? He couldn’t tell. Feelings were hard to recognize, with how they kept Kaveh at an arm’s length behind a wall of glass he could never get through. So instead of answering, he gave her the same smile and assured, “I just want you to be happy.”
Mother pursed her lips. “Your happiness matters too, Kaveh.”
Kaveh’s smile fell as something akin to confusion wound through his thoughts. He’d perfected the art of intuiting what others expected and wanted and matching them perfectly that sometimes he wondered what he even wanted at all. He swallowed and insisted, “Really, Mom. I want you to be happy.” He thought and squeezed her hands. “I’m attending Akademiya, and I really do want to study architecture like you did. I know there isn’t much you can do at home.” He smiled again. “I’ll be okay here. Really.”
Mother stared, eyes searching. Then she closed them, the same carmine eyes that Kaveh shared, and drew back. She gave Kaveh’s cheeks a light squeeze and gave him a smile — perhaps the first one since their loss. It wasn’t bright like sunshine, the way they used to shine. But there was light there, peeking through thick clouds. “Write to me,” she said. “I’ll write to you, too. Tell me everything. Okay?”
“Of course,” Kaveh promised.
The smile gained a sweeter touch. “One day, I hope you find something that you want for yourself.”
But I have. I want you to be happy, Kaveh thought but didn’t say. Instead he smiled, nodded and nuzzled into Mother’s touch, and reveled in what he could get before it was taken away from him. The day Mother finally left for Fontaine, Kaveh helped her bring her suitcases to the ship and waved until he couldn’t see the ship anymore.
It wasn’t the first time he was given this lesson, but it was the first time it truly stuck in him. Kaveh couldn’t want for anything, because anything he held dear would be taken away from him, one way or another.
Alhaitham had said yes to Grandmother’s request for him to make friends, but he found it difficult to fulfill. Grandmother was the only person he had even remotely liked enough to stay around with, to strike conversation and keep happy and content. In contrast, his classmates tested his patience and he found the social pressure to mingle and engage in small talk annoying at best and useless at worst.
Still, he tried. The Akademiya encouraged group projects, after all, and it was a practical method to find someone to befriend. And yet all it won him was his classmates’ ire, so he gave up on group projects, proved that he was capable of doing tasks by himself, and when a professor blatantly taught the class of something wrong and blew a gasket when Alhaitham corrected him (with citations from three separate books from three separate authors and three separate nations, no less), Alhaitham decided that he learned better from books than from people and promptly arranged to never have to attend class unless to submit his work.
The professors hated him, but he was on track to continue his education with the highest score in his year. His classmates didn’t like him either, but Akademiya never truly enforced the rule that projects should be done in groups, only to encourage it. Alhaitham was well within his rights to do all his projects alone if he so choose, and he proved himself capable, even when a particularly petty professor assigned a task fit for a group of four and Alhaitham came with his work right on time, with stellar paper to boot.
Not for the first time, Alhaitham wondered if his Grandmother had taken away his ability to care when she passed. It wasn’t her fault; Alhaitham was aware that he was literally built different, with a still heart and all. But seeing his classmates and professor and feeling absolutely nothing for them beyond the occasional annoyance, Alhaithan couldn’t help but think that he just… couldn’t feel.
Despite enjoying being able to absorb all knowledge he could get his hands on like a sponge, Alhaitham found that life during his studies at the Akademiya awfully boring. He had only just now realized that over-capability was as much of a curse as under.
Through the haze of boredom in between resting his eyes during readings, he had found that he would end up people-watching more often than not. He had found a quiet spot for himself, a pavilion overlooking Akademiya courtyard high above Sumeru City. Quietly watching some students debate, voices faint from the distance, or professors walking together to classes, became a pastime that he indulged in when he needed to rest his eyes as the words on paper began blurring together.
One time, lazily looking down to the courtyard, a flash of gold caught his eyes. He blinked and looked on, watching the bright, blond-haired student briskly walk out of the Akademiya halls. And then the figure paused and looked up, straight at Alhaitham.
The flash of carmine in the stranger’s eyes was surprising. He blinked at the sight while the student offered a smile and a wave at him. It took Alhaitham a moment to realize that it was meant to be a greeting, and he stiffly returned the wave.
The student gave a bright smile, lowered his hand, and walked on.
The next time Alhaitham met the student was in the House of Daena, in the rare time he found himself needing reference book that his inherited library didn’t have. The student was talking to two other students, one with striking white hair and one with fox ears, all three from different Darshans. The blond student saw him, smiled, and immediately made a beeline for Alhaitham after excusing himself from his friends.
“Hello,” the student said, voice hushed to obey the library’s rule to stay quiet. “You’re the one who likes to stay perched up at that one pavilion above the courtyard, right?”
“Yes,” Alhaitham admitted easily. “What’s it to you?”
“Nothing, really. You’re kind of notorious among students, with how you refuse to even come to class and yet managing to top the scores anyway.” He offered a hand. “My name is Kaveh, from Ksashrewar. I’m your senior by two years.”
Alhaitham stared at the offered hand and cautiously lifted his own. “Alhaitham, from Haravatat.”
“Pleasure to meet — “
He never got to finish his sentence. As their hands grasped in a handshake, a sudden thump at his chest made Alhaitham’s eyes go wide, and the equally sudden rush of something that made him gasp breathlessly immediately stole his attention. Something that he recognized as surprise, only more intense, gripped him tightly and refused to let go. Before he knew it, he stumbled forward, right into Kaveh.
Only, Kaveh was also pitching forward, right to Alhaitham. Somehow, with what little control they still had, they managed to not collide into each other. The buzzing, heady rush of something made Alhaitham groan even as he collapsed into the floor and feel the world darken into black.
Someone caught him before he could crack his head open on the cold tiles. Alhaitham gasped and grasped at his heart, once more unnervingly still after the sudden, singular beat it gave.
“Bimarstan,” he heard someone say, and then his arm was slung over someone’s shoulder as the stranger grasped his waist, and he was hauled over to the Akademiya’s Bimarstan branch.
The trip to the small clinic they built into a nook of roots passed in a blur for Alhaitham. When he regained enough of himself to slip out of the stranger’s hold — the white-haired student Kaveh had been talking to, while the one with the huge fox ears was holding on to Kaveh — he was already seated in front of a doctor, who was holding his wrist and trying to find a pulse with a frown.
“You won’t find it,” he said, blinking the fog away from his sight. “My heart doesn’t beat.”
The doctor’s frown cleared immediately. “Ah, right. Is your name Alhaitham, then? I have your file here, it says that you’re a special case.” She peered at him curiously. “I really do wonder how someone could live with your conditions.”
Alhaitham shrugged. Her and everyone else, apparently. She could get in line.
“Heart?” the white haired student murmured. His fox-eared friend elbowed him gently and put a finger over his lips.
The doctor hummed in thought. “In any case, I should check you for everything else. Can you move okay? Do you still feel faint, is there any pin and needles tingles anywhere?” When she was finally satisfied with her checks, she put her notes aside and asked, “What do you think brought this episode on?”
“I don’t know,” Alhaitham said honestly, “but my heart gave a beat.”
She blinked at him.
“It hasn’t beat again since.”
“Huh.” She crossed her arms in thought. “I wonder why that is. But you feel fine?”
“Yes. Just like usual.” Barring some uneasiness from the sudden beating of his heart, but physically, he was fine.
“Hmm. Come to me if anything changes, okay? I don’t see anything wrong, so you should be fine, but we should monitor your heart if anything happens.” At Alhaitham’s nod, she turned to the other three. “And you? Any of you need help?”
The fox-eared student gently pushed Kaveh forward. “He collapsed too, at the same time.”
Alhaitham turned to look at Kaveh. He was suddenly reminded of how he slumped at the same time as he did, and for the first time, he truly looked at him. There was a wild look in Kaveh’s pretty carmine eyes, and he was pale. He tensed when he realized all attention was on him, and he immediately plastered a smile for them.
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” he assured. “I just panicked when Alhaitham fell, is all. Don’t worry about me.”
“You collapsed,” the fox-eared student insisted. “I don’t think you should brush that off so easily.”
But Kaveh insisted that he was okay, and in the end there was nothing the doctor could do but give him general advice — drink water, eat food, get something rich in iron, bring something sweet in case blood sugar get low. Kaveh took them all with grace and they all left.
The other two students introduced themselves to Alhaitham — Cyno and Tighnari, from different Darshans and different years — and all four of them went to Puspa Cafe for lunch, Alhaitham being half-dragged by Tighnari who seemed to have taken it upon himself to make sure that this group stayed healthy under his supervision.
“Wait, so, if your heart doesn’t beat then what about your circulation? How does your body even function?” Tighnari asked.
Alhaitham shrugged. “The running theory is elemental energy, but there’s no reliable way to test it. The question that comes from that is how it’s even used considering I don’t have a Vision.”
“So basically your biology works perfectly even without a heart,” Cyno concluded.
“Yes.”
“So… you could perhaps say you are… heartless?”
Tighnari and Kaveh’s answering groans came in unison. Alhaitham just blinked at him.
“Get it?” Cyno goaded. There was a glint in his eyes that Alhaitham didn’t notice before. “Because your body doesn’t need a heart and — “
“Nooo, Cyno, you’re making things worse,” Tighnari protested, ears pressed flat to the sides of his head.
“I think you mean Cy-yes.”
Laughter bubbled past Alhaitham’s lips. It came out as a garbled bark, but it was still recognizable as a laughter. Cyno absolutely lit up at that, even as Kaveh gaped at Alhaitham.
“How are you laughing? That was so bad,” Kaveh said. Perhaps there was a touch of judgement in there.
“On the contrary, if it makes him laugh it must have been good,” Cyno argued immediately.
“No, it’s bad,” Alhaitham said, his breathing still shaky from the remnants of laughter that still threatened to spill. “It was so bad it just looped back around to being funny but not exactly in a good way. I just didn’t think you were the type.”
“Hey, looks can be deceiving. I bet I have a few jokes that’ll make your day. Now let’s see, why does the — “
“No!” Tighnari shoved a samosa into Cyno’s open mouth to shut him up. “I’m not listening to another one of your chicken crossing the road jokes!”
This time, when Alhaitham let out a chuckle, Kaveh joined in. It made Alhaitham’s laughter quiet immediately, trying to hear Kaveh’s soft laughter amidst the buzzing thrum of conversation in the cafe. It sounded pretty. It reminded Alhaitham of a light novel he once read, one that described the main character’s love interest as having laughter like bells.
When Kaveh’s laughter subsided, he brought his carmine gaze to meet Alhaitham’s, and here, now, with Kaveh’s eyes on him and Cyno and Tighnari’s argument about jokes, bad jokes, and their supposed role in society, Alhaitham thought back to Grandmother’s request for him to make friends.
Maybe he really could learn to care for others again.
Somehow, despite the disaster that was their official first meeting, Kaveh and Alhaitham became fast friends. Their bickerings and arguments grew famous and could last for days, and each time they touched, Kaveh’s heart stuttered.
How odd, to feel his heart stutter when he didn’t even have a heartbeat to begin with. But Kaveh felt it, the sudden beat it gave as it went silent once again and the rush of something he thought he should recognize but couldn’t because it had been denied from him for years. But Kaveh could recognize some of them; giddy excitement, annoyance. He couldn’t recognize the warmth that bloomed in his chest whenever he saw Alhaitham’s lips quirk ever so slightly into a smile, the one that made him want to reach out to the boy and cup his face and squish it, but he wasn’t opposed to it.
Between classes and getting roped into yet another argument with Alhaitham, Kaveh regularly wrote to his mother. As they grew busier with their now separate lives, their letters grew sparse, but they tried to keep up correspondence.
And then that letter came, and Kaveh sat on it for a week unable to even think of what kind of response he wanted to write.
Apparently it showed, because after a few days of Alhaitham largely letting Kaveh be while he read by his side at that secluded pavilion he liked to hide in, Alhaitham put down his book and asked point-blank, “What’s wrong?”
And somehow, Alhaitham’s distant but earnest gaze was more than enough to get Kaveh talking, because the next thing he knew, he blurted, “My mother’s remarrying.”
And then the whole thing spilled out of his lips; his father’s death (his fault, his fault, but he could never voice it to let the world know but he carried the burden like he was born for it and he thought maybe Alhaitham knew anyway), how it pushed them into grief, and how Mother eventually decided to move to Fontaine. When he was done, he stared blankly at the ground and wondered how normal people would react to this.
Slowly, carefully, Alhaitham scooted forward and reached out. Kaveh managed not to flinch at his touch but jumped anyway.
A wave of something slammed into his chest, and he gasped as his vision grew blurry, and suddenly he was sobbing without truly understanding why. It felt like his whole chest was being crushed, and he wanted to crumple to the ground and let the earth claim him just to flee from how horrible he felt. Alhaitham’s hesitant hands trailed to his shoulders and pulled him in, and the next thing he knew Kaveh was crying into Alhaitham’s shoulder. It was ugly; sobs and gasps escaped him though he wished they wouldn’t, and a part of him was mortified with how he was wetting Alhaitham’s uniform with tears and snot. But when he tried to move away, Alhaitham gently but firmly kept him there, fingers carding into Kaveh’s hair in an unfairly comforting gesture considering how awkward and stiff the movements were.
When the tears finally subsided and Kaveh felt calmer, Alhaitham put a bottle of water into his hands and coaxed him to drink. “Do you feel better now?” he asked.
Kaveh nodded and took a sip. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” The feelings were muted again, now that Kaveh had been drained of his tears.
Alhaitham’s hand was still holding his. His fingertips were cold, like Kaveh’s had always been, and despite being just slightly smaller it felt like an anchor in the middle of a storm. “It’s okay,” Alhaitham said. “I read that crying is just your body’s way to deal with strong emotions. You should let yourself cry.”
Kaveh couldn’t help but laugh at that. “That’s a new one. Most people just tell you that you shouldn’t cry.”
“Well they’re wrong.”
They spent the afternoon talking about everything and nothing, mostly Kaveh complaining about every little thing that came to mind while Alhaitham hummed in response. When Kaveh decided to write a response to Mother, Alhaitham stayed by his side though he didn’t even bother glancing.
That was okay. It was enough.
He ignored the distant twinge of anger in his chest, because she deserved to find happiness and Father’s death should be his burden to bear, and congratulated her. She had invited him to attend the wedding, but the date coincided with exam season. He was sure she would understand.
But things changed between Kaveh and Alhaitham after that. The comfort they had always felt around each other deepened. Kaveh’s heart kept giving little beats every time their skin brushed against each other, and each time, the rush of feelings that Kaveh couldn’t even begin to understand was so strong he would have keeled if he hadn’t expected it.
He’d always thought they worked well together. Their world views opposed each other, but that only meant each argument they had was a way to enrich themselves in a perspective so wildly different from their own. Like the two opposing forces of a magnet, drawing into each other. They even had a matching unbeating heart.
Not that Alhaitham knew Kaveh was the same as him, having a heart that didn’t beat. Even knowing they were in the same boat, Kaveh was reluctant to let him know. Alhaitham didn’t seem to worry about sticking out like a sore thumb in the worst way possible, but Kaveh didn’t like the thought of people looking at him like he was a freak. He had once overheard Mother and Father talk about how worried they were about people finding out about Kaveh’s heart and how the midwives helping Mother deliver had been disturbed when he woke up in the middle of the night needing to go to the toilet. He’d slipped back into his room and waited until they go to bed, thinking it over and wondering.
But that hadn’t been important. What was important was how he and Alhaitham meshed together despite their differences — or maybe because of them. It drew the attention of professors, students, and staffs alike, and soon the entirety of Akademiya had heard of the odd duo that seemed to oppose each other in every way imaginable. Like the impossible joining of oil and water.
So, really, it didn’t come as a surprise when they were assigned to work together on a joint project.
The falling out after, though, made Kaveh wonder how much more painful the confrontation would have been if his heart had been beating.
The thesis that he tore in two was still there. A stupid part of him that refused to let go of jagged, broken glass of his past held it closer, no matter how much the sheets of paper drew his blood. Instead of throwing it away he put it back together and wondered how the pieces fell this way.
Maybe Kaveh shouldn’t have cherished his friendship with Alhaitham this much.
Despite their heated falling out, Alhaitham kept an eye on Kaveh. It was done from afar, mostly by keeping an ear on the ground for any movement Kaveh made.
It was easy. A child’s play. Kaveh drew eyes on him wherever he went, with that rare golden hair and carmine eyes, with the talent he exuded, with the charm he had in droves. He was kind and attentive and people liked him, and unlike the rest of Ksashrewar, there was a sense of artistry in his craft. People came to him for something magical that only he could provide and turned his offers down for something watered down and tired, to never stand out in Sumeru’s architectural landscape.
Fools, Alhaitham would say. He didn’t understand architecture or artistry, but he could recognize hard work and zeal when he saw it. Kaveh’s clients were refusing finely crafted gemstones for pebbles.
When he heard of Kaveh’s newest project, the Palace of Alcazarzaray, he had silently congratulated Kaveh for finally having a client who would be willing to let him bring his exact vision into life, but something made his unbeating, unfeeling heart grew cold when he heard that the site had been taken over by a rapidly developing Withering, and Kaveh had nearly lost his life trying to salvage what was still there. It was eerie, to not hear any news of Kaveh after that, as if he had gone and turned into a ghost.
And then news of Kaveh’s magnus opus, the Palace of Alcazarzaray, reached him and he had to pause and think.
Kaveh’s newest project had successfully been built though the last he heard of it, it had been taken over by the Withering and Kaveh had been taken off the project. Somehow, Kaveh managed to build it anyway and it stood tall and proud, a marvel that Alhaitham knew would make the entirety of Ksashrewar hem and haw for years to come. And yet, the architect himself was gone, with no one to hear of his whereabouts.
It was by chance that Alhaitham’s feet would lead him to Lambad’s tavern that night, where he unexpectedly saw Kaveh sipping on a goblet of wine at a corner while Lambad shooed drunk customers and offered a blanket to Kaveh.
Something in Alhaitham’s gut churned. There had been rumors of people seeing Kaveh in Lambad’s at odd hours, and Alhaitham had wondered where Kaveh stayed because he’d looked for him at his house only to find out it had been sold.
“We’re closing soon,” Lambad said when Alhaitham walked closer to Kaveh.
“I know,” Alhaitham said. “I just need to talk to Kaveh.” A pause, then he added, “I’d like some wine.”
Lambad gave him a look. “Make sure he’ll be fine,” was all he said as he slid Alhaitham’s wine, and that alone meant so much more than he had hoped. Even with his unbeating heart, he suddenly understood what people meant when they said their heart sank.
He slipped to the seat in front of Kaveh, and the blond jolted. His beautiful carmine eyes blinked owlishly at him, and then he barked a laugh that was so grating Alhaitham couldn’t help but liken it to the harsh clang of metal. “You’re the last person I’d have wanted to meet,” Kaveh said. “So, what? You’re smart, you’ve probably found out I’ve been staying here already. Have you come to gloat? To laugh at me?”
“Never.”
Kaveh scoffed. “So what, then? I don’t need your pity, if that’s what you’re feeling for me.”
Instead of answering, Alhaitham slowly reached out to take Kaveh’s hand into his own. Their skin touched, cold fingertips brushing together as Alhaitham enveloped Kaveh’s slim, dainty hands in his. Something thumped dully in Alhaitham’s chest as an ache bloomed, and he knew without a doubt he was aching for Kaveh. Any beat his heart gave, and feeling he felt clearly, had always been for Kaveh.
He asked, “How has realizing your ideals gone for you?”
Kaveh put down his goblet and sobbed.
This hadn’t been surprising to Alhaitham. He’d known that Kaveh had always had a strong reaction to touches. He shied away from it, when it came to other people, but he welcomed Alhaitham’s. Perhaps he was touch-starved, but he would often end up crying and leaning into Alhaitham when it happened, leaning into his shoulder and spilling his heart out for Alhaitham to hear.
It wasn’t different this time. Kaveh spilled everything for Alhaitham to try to cup in his hands, to hold and keep where Kaveh had no more space to put them in. And despite the dire situation it landed Kaveh in, he did not regret building Alcazarzaray again by himself, brick by brick until it stood as tall and majestic as it did today. He only regretted not having a roof over his head, though he would have done everything the same way given half the chance of redoing everything.
It didn’t surprise Alhaitham. Kaveh had always been like that.
“So that’s it,” Kaveh said, voice monotone as he had been drained of all energy from crying and telling Alhaitham everything. “I’m in debt, I have no Mora to my name, and sooner or later Lambad will kick me out and I’ll have to sleep under a bridge.”
“You don’t have to,” Alhaitham said, thinking of the empty room in his house that had never been used as anything more than a storage room. “Come live with me.”
Kaveh shook his head immediately. “I don’t want to impose…”
“It’s yours as much as it’s mine,” Alhaitham said. When Kaveh looked at him quizzically, he clarified, “The house. It’s the one Akademiya gave us after that project. I know you gave up ownership of it, but you’re still entitled to it. It’s in your rights to use it as it is mine.”
“It’s not in my rights. I gave up ownership,” Kaveh protested.
“Then pay rent, if it matters so much to you,” Alhaitham insisted. “You can start paying once you have a paycheck from your next project. Alcazarzaray would draw attention to you, Kaveh. You’ll be back on your feet soon enough, but only if you have a place to stay.”
Kaveh paused, looking at Alhaitham. The carmine looked so deep Alhaitham couldn’t help but wonder if he could lose himself in it. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, the hand Alhaitham still held trembling minutely.
Alhaitham squeezed gently, the way Grandmother used to when she wanted to comfort him. “Is it so hard to believe that I care about you? Despite everything, I still see you as a friend.”
Kaveh laughed harshly. “Friends don’t do so much for each other, I don’t believe.”
“You’re saying Tighnari wouldn’t let you crash in his while you look for a solution?” Alhaitham challenged. “Knowing you, you didn’t even tell him or anyone because you’re either ashamed or don’t want to be a burden. Maybe both.” He narrowed his eyes at Kaveh. “Don’t insult your friends like that.”
Kaveh looked away uncomfortably.
“Come home with me,” Alhaitham said, voice bordering on a beg. “Just for a week, if you don’t want to stay for long. That should be enough time to get a decent apartment with affordable rent, and you’ll probably be able to find a new client soon enough. I have a room you can use. You can pay me back any time you want.”
In the end, Kaveh caved.
And in the end, he never left.