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Alhaitham, the Akademiya’s scribe, well… He surely can be difficult. That's putting it simply. His seemingly cold & frank demeanor easily clashes with others’ personalities. Many fail to understand him as a whole, or blatantly misinterpret his words.
Only one could ever have Alhaitham standing at their door late at night, hurt and quietly guilty, hoping to make things right.
So, Alhaitham has found himself outside of his beloved’s bedroom door after an argument left resentment lingering in the air, heavy and suffocating. They normally spend their nights together in Alhaitham’s room, wrapped around each other, warm & cozy. Falling asleep cold isn’t Alhaitham’s personal choice, and the absence of that warmth is… distracting. Unsettling in a way he cannot reason with.
He lifts his hand to knock, then pauses. Logically, this is unnecessary. The argument was trivial. Words exchanged, nothing more. It will pass with time, as most things do.
…So why is he here?
His hand tightens slightly before he knocks anyway.
“Kaveh, are you awake?”
“I am. Why? Are you here to berate me as you always do?”
Alhaitham exhales quietly. There it is. As expected, measured, predictable.
“No, it’s cold.”
The words leave him before he can refine them. He frowns faintly at that. It’s an incomplete explanation, inefficient. Still true.
“Ok? What does that have to do with me!”
“It’s not cold when you’re with me. Can I come in?”
A pause follows, far too long.
Alhaitham finds himself acutely aware of it. Of the silence, the door still closed, and the possibility that it may stay that way. His posture remains composed, but there’s a subtle tension in his shoulders now. He should leave, that would be the rational choice. But of course, he doesn't move.
Alhaitham expected Kaveh to say no, to tell him to just go away, but the sheepish tone in his voice is something only Kaveh would recognize. Kaveh wouldn’t ever admit it himself, but when Alhaitham’s voice is softer & quieter, it makes him weak.
“Fine...”
The door slowly pushes open. Alhaitham stops at the edge of Kaveh’s bed, fingers flexing at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Kaveh is sitting on his bed, hair undone, but not messy like it is when he’s smiling, happily laid in Alhaitham's bed. His chest tightens.
He hesitates. “I don’t want to be cold tonight,” he says. Then, quieter, “I’m sorry.”
The silence that follows is immediate. Alhaitham doesn’t look away, watching, waiting. It’s an unfamiliar position, just Kaveh, quiet, thinking, deciding. It’s uncomfortable to say the least.
Kaveh softly stares at the other, pondering a response. The apology sits in the air. It’s quiet & fragile, so unlike anything Alhaitham usually offers that it almost feels misplaced. For a moment, Kaveh wonders if he imagined it.
I’m sorry.
It’s clumsy. Bare. Completely lacking in the usual logic and justification Alhaitham speaks with. That, more than anything, makes something in Kaveh’s chest ache. He hates that it works.
Kaveh looks away, fingers tightening slightly in the sheets beneath him. He could push him out. He probably should. It would be easier, wouldn’t it? To hold onto the irritation, to make Alhaitham work for it a little more, to not fold the second he shows even a sliver of sincerity. But then there’s the way he’s standing there. Still, uncertain, like he’s waiting to be told no. Kaveh exhales sharply through his nose.
“You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, though there’s no real bite to it.
“You pick a fight, say something awful, and then show up at my door because you’re cold?”
Kaveh pauses for a moment, hesitating. “…You’re lucky I know what you mean.”
He shifts, making space for the other. It’s subtle enough that Alhaitham doesn’t have to acknowledge it outright. He notices anyway. A small movement, easily overlooked, but deliberate. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly. He doesn’t comment on it. There’s nothing to say that wouldn’t disrupt the understanding between them. Instead, he moves quietly and carefully, as if anything else might undo it.
The mattress dips slightly as Alhaitham sits beside him, carefully, like he’s aware of every inch of space between them. For a moment, neither of them speak. It’s different like this. It’s wrong, too much distance.
There’s still a small gap between them. Kaveh glances at it, frowning slightly. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
“I’m sitting.”
“You’re leaving space,” Kaveh corrects, like it’s obvious. “It’s annoying.”
“It seemed appropriate,” Alhaitham replies.
“For who?”
Alhaitham doesn’t answer.
Kaveh exhales sharply, already irritated again. Not like before, it’s softer now, dulled at the edges, maybe even a little playful.
“You’re overthinking it.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” Kaveh insists. “You always do this after we argue. You act like if you move wrong I’ll throw you out.”
He pauses for a second. “…I won’t.”
Alhaitham’s gaze shifts to him, searching, just for a second, making sure that’s true.
“I’m aware,” he says.
“Then stop acting like it.”
Alhaitham doesn’t respond right away. “…Noted.”
But he doesn’t move away either. Instead, like it’s not something he’s fully decided on but something his body understands before he does, he shifts closer. The gap between them disappears completely.
Then, before either of them can overthink it, Kaveh reaches out first. He wraps his arms around Alhaitham’s shoulders, holding him closer. Alhaitham simply lets himself fall into the touch he feared he would’ve been deprived of tonight. Neither of them says anything for a while. The silence isn’t heavy this time, it’s comfortable.
Kaveh’s embrace unravels slowly, fingers curled lightly against Alhaitham’s sleeve. “…You’re still insufferable,” he mutters eventually, but it’s muffled now, softer against him.
“Mm.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
Kaveh huffs a quiet laugh, barely there. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
That earns him a pause. Kaveh shifts slightly so he can look up at him. “…Don’t get smug.”
“I’m not.”
Kaveh huffs, like he doesn’t believe him for a second.
“You are,” he says anyway, quieter now. Less accusation, more familiarity. Like it’s something he’s already accepted.
Alhaitham doesn’t argue this time. There’s a brief pause, not tense, not heavy either. Kaveh shifts slightly, pulling back just enough to look at him properly. His hand doesn’t leave Alhaitham’s sleeve, fingers still loosely curled there, like he hasn’t quite decided to let go.
“About earlier… Don’t say things like that again, it was stupid.”
“I’m aware.”
“That’s it?” Kaveh frowns. “That’s all you have to say?”
Alhaitham considers this, briefly. “No.” Kaveh waits.
Alhaitham exhales quietly. “It was unnecessary,” he says, voice softer than before. “And… inaccurate.”
“That’s how you’re apologizing?” There’s a hint of disbelief there, but it’s not sharp. Not anymore.
Alhaitham tilts his head slightly. “Would you prefer I phrase it differently?”
Kaveh opens his mouth then stops. His grip on Alhaitham’s sleeve tightens just a little. “No,” he admits, quieter. “I know what you mean.”
There’s a small pause. Kaveh sighs, shoulders dropping. “I said things too,” he adds, almost reluctantly. “You’re not the only one who can be… awful.”
“Mm.”
“Don’t agree so fast.”
“I didn’t,” Alhaitham replies calmly. “I was acknowledging your statement.”
Kaveh narrows his eyes at him for a second, then huffs, something like a laugh slipping through despite himself. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” Alhaitham starts.
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Kaveh cuts in quickly, but there’s no real force behind it now.
Alhaitham doesn’t, but there’s the faintest hint of something in his expression. Not quite smug. Not quite. Kaveh notices anyway.
“…Come here,” he mutters after a second, shifting back against the pillows.
Alhaitham doesn’t hesitate this time. He adjusts, more naturally now, the earlier stiffness gone. The space between them disappears as he leans in, settling properly beside him. Kaveh pulls the blanket up around them both without thinking, the movement automatic, familiar. It’s warmer already. Kaveh turns slightly onto his side, facing him. They’re close. Closer than before, close enough that there’s no room for distance even if they wanted it. For a moment, neither of them says anything.
Then Kaveh’s hand lifts, almost absentmindedly, brushing against Alhaitham’s shoulder, then resting there.
“You really showed up here just because you were cold,” he murmurs.
“Yes, partially.”
Kaveh studies him for a second. “…That’s pathetic.”
“It was effective.”
Kaveh lets out a quiet, breathy laugh at that, shaking his head slightly. “You’re unbelievable.”
Alhaitham doesn’t respond. His gaze lingers-- steady, quieter now. There’s a shift. Subtle, but noticeable. Kaveh feels it.
His voice drops a little. “…What?”
“Nothing,” Alhaitham says, though he doesn’t look away. Kaveh doesn’t buy it. He never does.
“…You’re staring.”
“I’m looking.”
“There’s a difference.”
Alhaitham hums softly, like he’s considering that. Kaveh rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t look away either. Not this time. The space between them feels smaller somehow. Kaveh’s breath catches slightly, just enough to notice. When Alhaitham shifts again, just a fraction closer, it’s like he’s testing something unspoken.
There’s a pause. Then Kaveh closes the distance first. Soft at first. Careful. Like neither of them wants to break this. Alhaitham stills for half a second, just enough to register it. His hand lifts, resting lightly at Kaveh’s cheek, grounding more than pulling. The kiss deepens slowly, naturally, like it’s something they’ve both already decided on without saying it out loud. It’s warm, familiar.
Kaveh exhales softly against him, the last of the earlier tension slipping away completely. His hand tightens slightly where it rests against Alhaitham, pulling him just a little closer, like he’s making up for the space that was there before. When they finally pull back, it’s not far. Their foreheads are slightly touching.
Kaveh’s eyes flicker open first. “…You’re still awful,” he murmurs. “But…” He hesitates, just for a second. “I want you to stay.”
Alhaitham’s hand shifts slightly at his cheek, thumb brushing once, absentmindedly. “I was planning on it.”
Kaveh huffs at the words quietly, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he settles in closer, head resting against him, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t move away. The silence between them is different now, no longer tense, no longer uncertain. It’s heavy but comforting, carrying everything neither of them is saying out loud.
Alhaitham’s hand slips to Kaveh’s waist, firm, steady, like an anchor that refuses to loosen its hold. Not possessive in a harsh way, just like he’s decided this is where Kaveh belongs right now, and isn’t interested in debating it. Kaveh exhales slowly against him, shakes slightly.
“…You’re still doing that,” he mutters, but there’s no real complaint in it anymore. Just awareness, noticing everything too clearly.
“Doing what?”
“Acting like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
Alhaitham’s gaze shifts. It’s measured, calm, but now in a way that feels more focused.
“I do,” he says simply.
That alone makes something in Kaveh’s expression break a little. “Then stop talking,” Kaveh murmurs. There’s no bite left in it. Only loving want.
Alhaitham doesn’t respond, he just closes the distance again.
This kiss is slower, but deeper in a way that feels almost unbearable. Not rushed or chaotic, but threaded with something heavier. Something that sits in the chest instead of just the moment. Kaveh leans into it immediately, like his body already knows what he’s decided before his mind fully catches up.
His fingers slide in Alhaitham’s hair at the nape of his neck, holding him there. Like letting go would break something fragile they’ve only just admitted exists.
Alhaitham’s hand at his waist pulls again, firmer now, drawing him in until there’s absolutely no space left between them. Chest to chest. Breath to breath. Heat and weight and presence.
It’s not frantic, it’s worse than that. It’s certain. They’ve both stopped pretending restraint is still in charge. When they finally part, it’s only because they have to breathe. Their foreheads rest together again. Kaveh’s eyes don’t fully open right away, like he’s trying to collect himself and failing at it.
Kaveh lets out a quiet breath that almost trembles into something like a laugh. “You’re infuriatingly confident...”
“This isn’t confidence. I know what I’m doing. And I know what you want”
A pause. Kaveh’s fingers stay tangled at his neck, but his voice drops to a weaker, intimate tone.
“…You don’t get to just say things like that and expect me to function properly afterward.”
Alhaitham tilts his head slightly, just enough that his breath brushes Kaveh’s skin when he speaks.
“I’m not asking you to function.”
Kaveh stills for a second. Then his grip tightens. Subtle, but undeniable. He pulls him back in. Not waiting this time, no hesitation. The kiss that follows is heavier, like something that’s stopped pretending it’s only about tension and started becoming something else entirely. Neither of them is willing to stop it now that it’s started.
It’s something that feels like coming home despite all the arguments that led here. Alhaitham holds him through it without question, like he always should have. When they break apart again, it’s slower this time. Kaveh doesn’t step back. He just stays there, close enough that every breath still belongs to both of them.
“…If you start another argument tomorrow,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, “I’m locking you out.”
Alhaitham hums lightly, “I have the key.”
Kaveh pauses then exhales softly, defeated, fond in a way he’d never admit aloud.
“…Of course you do.”
And this time, when he leans in again, there’s no frustration. It’s just because he can. And because Alhaitham meets him halfway every single time. When they part, Kaveh doesn’t move away. He stays there close enough that every breath still feels shared between them, neither of them is entirely separate anymore.
Alhaitham’s hand rests at his side— steady, warm, unhurried. Not holding on like he’s afraid, just certain that he doesn’t need to let go. Kaveh shifts slightly, fingers curling into the fabric of Alhaitham’s shirt like it’s become a habit before he even realizes it.
“…You’re staying,” he says, like he’s checking.
“I said I would.”
Kaveh exhales, slower this time. Less sharp. More tired in the way that only feels safe now. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite left in it.
Alhaitham hums softly, as if acknowledging something obvious.
“You’re the one who let me in.” That earns a quiet huff of laughter against his shoulder.
Kaveh tilts his head slightly, just enough to look at him. “…Don’t get smug.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
A beat. Then, softer— almost like it slips out before he can stop it:
“…I love you, you know.”
Alhaitham doesn’t react immediately. Not because he didn’t hear it, but because he did. His hand shifts slightly at Kaveh’s waist, thumb brushing once, slow, deliberate. Grounding.
“I am aware,” he says finally.
Kaveh scoffs quietly. “That’s not how normal people respond to that.”
Alhaitham’s gaze stays on him, steady. “I’m not normal people.”
Then, quieter, so quiet it barely feels like a separate sentence at all…
“I love you as well.” It’s stated, a fact he has always been living with.
Kaveh goes still for a second, then exhales like he’s annoyed at how much that affects him.
“…You could’ve said that sooner.”
“I did.”
Kaveh rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he settles back into him like it was inevitable all along.
“Yeah,” he murmurs after a moment. “You did.”
And this time, neither of them argues with the silence that follows.
Kaveh glances up at him, eyes half-lidded now, exhaustion finally catching up to everything that was said and everything that wasn’t.
“Dont get used to me saying things like that all the time.” he says more quietly, “but I mean it..”
Alhaitham looks at him for a moment. Confirming what he’s always known, and always reciprocated.
“I love you too. With everything about you, I still do.”
Kaveh’s expression shifts at that. Not surprised. Just… affected in a way he doesn’t bother hiding anymore.
“Yeah,” he whispers, almost like he’s giving up on arguing with it. “I know.”
The silence that follows doesn’t feel heavy anymore. It settles easily between them. Kaveh shifts closer without thinking, head resting against Alhaitham’s chest like it belongs there. Alhaitham adjusts instinctively, one arm tightening around him.
Outside, the world continues. Inside, it slows.
Kaveh’s breathing evens out first. The tension in his shoulders fades, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left to hold anymore. His fingers loosen where they curl into Alhaitham’s shirt, but he doesn’t let go.
Alhaitham stays awake a little longer. Not thinking, not analyzing. Just aware of the weight against him, the steady rhythm of breathing, the absence of distance where it used to be. Then, eventually, even that quiet awareness softens, and he closes his eyes.
Neither of them says anything else, they don’t need to. Because for once, there is nothing left to fix. Only the gentle warmth they both find in each other.
So thankfully, tonight, sleep comes easily. Warm embrace is kept peacefully.