[ Pulled in close to Alhaitham in return, Kaveh's lips part in a soft sigh of content. There's something unspoken in the way the taller man holds him, an echo of the same possessiveness he watched flit across his face earlier in the evening, that makes the architect finally feel calm, like he can properly breathe for the first time all evening.
He remembers vaguely the conversation they had the morning after his drunken confession, the scribe's reticence to admit his jealousy, and his lips quirk in a fond smile. Maybe on some level, he likes feeling like he belongs to someone? But the thought is chased by broken memory of the night before, of that man who gave them so much trouble tonight, and Kaveh's brows crease in a small frown at the same moment that Alhaitham separates from him so slightly. ]
I'm fine. [ It's said in a murmur, his eyes not quite meeting those that search his face. But even before the words fully leave his lips, the pang of guilt strikes him, and he heaves out a soft sigh, one hand pulling back to his own chest, lifting to his face, pinching at the bridge of his nose.
Really, what's the point in lying to Alhaitham when the other man can see right through him anyway?
So Kaveh steadies himself with a breath, keeps himself grounded with a flutter of fingers through the silver of Alhaitham's hair. This time, he refuses to cry. He's here, at home, with the person who makes him feel safest— (and usually most irritated too, but the scribe has been nothing but sweet tonight)— There's no reason for him to be upset, to feel trapped by words spoken by someone obviously so far below him. ]
...I feel awful. None of that would have happened tonight if I'd acted maturely and told you about my feelings instead of trying to piss you off.
[ Sure, he had his reasons at the time— fear of being kicked out of the house, or worse of being removed from Alhaitham's life altogether— but he's a grown man, damnit. So much of this could have been prevented if he'd just acted his age. ]
Now I've caused you problems, maybe gotten you in trouble... I'm sorry.
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He remembers vaguely the conversation they had the morning after his drunken confession, the scribe's reticence to admit his jealousy, and his lips quirk in a fond smile. Maybe on some level, he likes feeling like he belongs to someone? But the thought is chased by broken memory of the night before, of that man who gave them so much trouble tonight, and Kaveh's brows crease in a small frown at the same moment that Alhaitham separates from him so slightly. ]
I'm fine. [ It's said in a murmur, his eyes not quite meeting those that search his face. But even before the words fully leave his lips, the pang of guilt strikes him, and he heaves out a soft sigh, one hand pulling back to his own chest, lifting to his face, pinching at the bridge of his nose.
Really, what's the point in lying to Alhaitham when the other man can see right through him anyway?
So Kaveh steadies himself with a breath, keeps himself grounded with a flutter of fingers through the silver of Alhaitham's hair. This time, he refuses to cry. He's here, at home, with the person who makes him feel safest— (and usually most irritated too, but the scribe has been nothing but sweet tonight)— There's no reason for him to be upset, to feel trapped by words spoken by someone obviously so far below him. ]
...I feel awful. None of that would have happened tonight if I'd acted maturely and told you about my feelings instead of trying to piss you off.
[ Sure, he had his reasons at the time— fear of being kicked out of the house, or worse of being removed from Alhaitham's life altogether— but he's a grown man, damnit. So much of this could have been prevented if he'd just acted his age. ]
Now I've caused you problems, maybe gotten you in trouble... I'm sorry.