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Alhaitham doesn’t think he is a heartless person. He doesn’t, truly, as much as he often doubts it. There are moments when he sets his book to the side or stares blankly at his paperwork, and wonders if what people say is true. If he really doesn’t care about anyone but himself, if he’s arrogant and cruel and completely lacking in empathy (as Kaveh is so fond of claiming). And perhaps the way it haunts him, the way the issue never really leaves him, is, in itself, proof that he isn’t heartless. That he cares. He thinks he remembers hearing about that at some point – that worrying about not caring enough is a sign of caring. Or maybe that saying was about parenting and the cycle of abuse. He isn’t sure; for all his interest, the human mind has never been his area of expertise.
But to digress, Alhaitham did care. It’s just that sometimes showing his concern involves breaking his routine and disrupting his life without any notice, and that was extremely hard for him to do. That isn’t to say that he didn’t handle change well, per se. In his experience, disruptions were usually temporary and would result in returning to his usual stable life eventually, if with slight variations. It was when intentional action on his part was required that he struggled. So, it was easy to go along with inevitable change until it resolved itself, and any stress involved was usually distant and easy to ignore. Even if said stress sometimes reflected on the outside, he didn’t really feel it, so it didn’t matter. This has happened so many times – when Alhaitham started the Akademiya, when he graduated, when his grandmother died, when he moved out and started his job as the scribe, and most recently when he and a small group of other people overthrew the Sages and freed Lord Kusanali.
It always comes back to his usual, stable and peaceful life. Which is good – that’s all Alhaitham has ever wanted. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it is all he’s ever known, and he doesn’t know how well he could handle it being different. He is well aware that many, or even most, people do not have that privilege. Kaveh, for one, has not had a stable life. Whether it’s the death of his father, his mother moving to Fontaine, or his debt and poverty, Kaveh’s life is always changing. As such, Alhaitham thinks that he should be grateful for the life he has. He is grateful, actually, but sometimes he wishes he was more deserving of it.
And that’s another thing. Kaveh. Alhaitham thinks that he should love him. He should. Kaveh is bright and fiery and passionate and cares (feels) so deeply about everything in a way Alhaitham never could. Kaveh is kind and understanding. Alhaitham can’t help but think of him all the time, and use him as a point of comparison for himself and all others. In their Akademiya days, Kaveh never judged him when he didn’t know the right response, or when he didn’t understand how to do something as quickly as his peers. He burns so brightly that he burns himself out. He is everything Alhaitham has ever wanted or needed.
Even now, when Kaveh is further than ever for all that he is only one room away, when he can’t stand anything Alhaitham says or does, he is so unhesitatingly kind. He always makes sure that Alhaitham has enough to eat, and that he’s taking care of himself. He ensures that he is well even when they are fighting (as they usually are nowadays), or when Kaveh himself is not. He brings an energy to Alhaitham’s life that it sorely needs, and he has grown accustomed to Kaveh’s presence. He is beautiful, too. Alhaitham, for all of his ignorance of the attractiveness of other people, can see that Kaveh is an attractive man. He has large, brightly colored eyes, a symmetrical face, smooth skin, well-kept hair. He isn’t particularly muscular, but he still fits within the arbitrary ideal of a male physique. He takes care of his physical appearance. If not for his knowledge of common beauty standards, he would still know Kaveh is attractive just from the number of romantic partners he has had, or people interested in being his romantic partner.
Alhaitham firmly believes that he should be in love with Kaveh. But he isn’t. He’s never been jealous of Kaveh’s previous lovers, never felt the need to reach out and touch him. Nor has he ever been besotted in the way people describe. He can look at his face and recognize his aesthetics, the things that would be considered “attractive” and the things that wouldn’t. But he has never wanted to stare at him for long periods (it sounds boring, and he would much rather be reading). His heart doesn’t flutter when he sees him, or when he has his attention. It just continues to beat its regular, steady pace.
Alhaitham doesn’t prioritize Kaveh over his routine, or think about kissing him. When he longs for touch, whether platonic or sexual, he doesn’t picture Kaveh’s face. He has tried to picture Kaveh in these ways, but it always just feels false and he ends up feeling guilty and hollow. He also doesn’t memorize Kaveh’s preferences and opinions, like he’s read about being a sign of love. The things he knows about Kaveh came about naturally, over the course of years of knowing each other and the relatively brief time they have lived together. Familiarity breeds knowledge. He just… isn’t in love with Kaveh.
He did wonder, briefly, if he was simply straight, but that wasn’t right either. He doesn’t feel any of this for anyone. If Alhaitham was going to love someone, he feels like it should be Kaveh. So, what then? Is he simply incapable of love? What kind of person does that make him? And so, once again, Alhaitham wonders if he is heartless. But was a lack of love such a surprise when he generally felt nothing at all? Kaveh likes to say that Alhaitham had a temper, but he doesn’t know where that impression came from. Everything he felt was muted in some way, from joy to sorrow to anger.
His anger tended to be quick and mild, enough to lash out briefly in annoyance but never more. Usually, that was enough to intimidate whoever had caused him to react that way – one of the benefits of an expressionless face and a muscular physique. Kaveh was never intimidated, of course. He usually retaliated with enough emotion and passion to make Alhaitham regret expressing anything at all. (And, once again Kaveh has made it into his internal monologue.) Other emotions were inaccessible to him entirely, and the lack made him feel hollow.
He struggled with that a lot. Often the emptiness inside was overwhelming, and he felt the need to hide himself away and forget he existed for a while. These are the times that he turned the noise canceling function of his earpieces on and settled into a book. This always irritated Kaveh, who tended to scold him for ignoring him or reading at inconvenient times. Alhaitham sometimes wished he could be more involved with other people. More open, more kind. He feels too small for his body at times, like he takes up too much space. Other times he is startled when someone says his name or addresses him because he doesn’t feel real and for a moment, he has forgotten he existed.
Working as the scribe didn’t help with that, of course. It was not a particularly social position, and very few people sought him out while he was working (or when he wasn’t, actually). He did prefer it this way, as he didn’t have to try and determine the appropriate way to act in every situation, and force himself to maintain and adjust that façade for the duration of the interaction. It was an exhausting thing to do, and Alhaitham wasn’t particularly good at it – he tended to come across as arrogant, impatient, and blunt. These are some of the reasons he hated his time as the Acting Grand Sage, in addition to the interruption of routine and levels of effort required. Plus, the notoriety of the job, and the circumstances in which he acquired it, means that he is frequently approached by people who recognize him outside of the Akademiya. Which meant more social interaction, and it was generally considered rude to turn his soundproof earpieces on and ignore them. Especially when it was Tighnari, Cyno, Nilou, or – worst of all – Lord Kusanali.
Kaveh didn’t understand. Of course not; Kaveh was charismatic, socially adept, and beloved by most people. In addition, he loved socializing, if the amount of it he does regularly is any indication. He is also ambitious and determined, with a desire to make an impact. He wanted to make Sumeru better, both as an architect and as a person. This meant that the position of Sage is one he would likely find very rewarding, and thus aspires to. With the state of the government the way it is after the coup, he may very well find himself in that position soon enough. When he mentions this to him, Kaveh seems to believe he is being sarcastic. He often reads mockery or sarcasm into Alhaitham’s words, though he rarely intends it.
Usually, Alhaitham is genuine about his intentions. Even their fights are born out of care: Alhaitham wants Kaveh to be happy, safe, and well cared for, which he struggles to do. The biggest fight they ever had – the one that led to them not speaking for years, and to Kaveh’s present animosity towards him – began with Alhaitham wanting him to be more selfish and take better care of himself. This is a topic they have never been able to agree on, and likely never will. Kaveh takes his concern to be an opposition to his ideals and a lack of empathy. Alhaitham generally avoids addressing the subject directly now, as Kaveh seems sensitive to it and he never means to hurt him.
He wonders, sometimes, if Kaveh would like him more if he understood his intentions and experiences better. Then he wonders if that makes him arrogant, to view his personal struggles as the reason they are always fighting, and for wishing that people, Kaveh specifically, would simply know what his intentions are. He wonders if it even matters. Finally, he wonders if this makes him heartless after all. Then he stops wondering and gets back to work.