[ Even from here, the drop of volume in the adjacent room is evident, leaving Kaveh feeling even sicker than he did when this whole thing started. He's worried about Alhaitham, mostly, more than he's worried about himself; the feelings he has toward himself are those he tries to ignore, tries to smother as soon as they rise unbidden and accusatory in his mind.
At the very least, the force of effort keeps him from suffering a complete meltdown, his energy spent maintaining at least even a narrow barrier between the events of the night and his proclivity for self-hatred. After all, with everything his partner has done tonight on his behalf, the last thing he should have to deal with upon coming back is a panicky, tear-stained boyfriend.
Oh, but he wants to go home.
Despite his best efforts, the distress is still written clearly over his face by the time the other man emerges from the main area into the darkened hallway. Kaveh crosses the floor in quick steps as soon as he speaks; suppressing the very real temptation to throw himself into the other's arms like something in an Inazuman light novel, he instead reaches up, using his fingers and the cuff of his shirt sleeve to wipe away the remnants of the scholar's blood smeared on his face. ]
I'm alright. [ His voice is soft, his eyes searching as they scan over every square inch of the scribe's face. It's a lie, of course it is, but in Kaveh's mind it's a necessary one with how much Alhaitham just put on the line for himβ whether the other man sees it that way or not. His other hand though, the one not skimming over the scribe's face, tells the truth of the matter in the way it finds purchase in the material of Alhaitham's shirt, an attempt by Kaveh to ground himself against his partner's immovable form.
no subject
At the very least, the force of effort keeps him from suffering a complete meltdown, his energy spent maintaining at least even a narrow barrier between the events of the night and his proclivity for self-hatred. After all, with everything his partner has done tonight on his behalf, the last thing he should have to deal with upon coming back is a panicky, tear-stained boyfriend.
Oh, but he wants to go home.
Despite his best efforts, the distress is still written clearly over his face by the time the other man emerges from the main area into the darkened hallway. Kaveh crosses the floor in quick steps as soon as he speaks; suppressing the very real temptation to throw himself into the other's arms like something in an Inazuman light novel, he instead reaches up, using his fingers and the cuff of his shirt sleeve to wipe away the remnants of the scholar's blood smeared on his face. ]
I'm alright. [ His voice is soft, his eyes searching as they scan over every square inch of the scribe's face. It's a lie, of course it is, but in Kaveh's mind it's a necessary one with how much Alhaitham just put on the line for himβ whether the other man sees it that way or not. His other hand though, the one not skimming over the scribe's face, tells the truth of the matter in the way it finds purchase in the material of Alhaitham's shirt, an attempt by Kaveh to ground himself against his partner's immovable form.
The closest thing to home he can get right now.
He swallows, closes his eyes. He's alright. ]
How about you? Are you okay?